


The stories we tell

by inthepapers3times



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Humor, M/M, Slow Burn, Suicide Attempt, initial dislike, paraplegic!harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 18:48:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 67,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5059960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inthepapers3times/pseuds/inthepapers3times
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Hart is a paraplegic. Eggsy Unwin is the new guy hired to help him out. Despite their initial dislike, Eggsy finds he is intrigued by this slightly mysterious older gentleman. He is especially curious to find out what happened that put him in the wheelchair. </p><p>Harry starts telling him stories about how it happened, promising that eventually, one of the stories will be the truth. Eggsy can't wait to find out. He never would have expected the bond that starts to form between the stories, the laughter, and the tears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Eggsy looked up at the house with disdain. He already hated the person who lived there, and he didn't even know their name. When he had read the advert for “A help in all matters. Inquire during interview”, he had dismissed the position immediately. It sounded so vague, so deliberately uninformative, that it could only mean it was a shit job. Sort of like the way that shitty apartments were described as “cosy” and ugly sweaters as “unusual”. But the promised pay was good, and going in for an interview couldn't hurt. He would not get the position anyway; no one in their right mind would hire him, without any previous experience or reference. He had walked past the house five times now, not sure what to think of it. This neighbourhood looked expensive and posh, which made the house intimidating despite its modest size. Obviously, the person who lived there was very wealthy, and would probably laugh in his face when he came in. Still, he really needed the money…

He walked up to the front door and rang the bell, ignoring the fact that he was two hours later than the ending-point of the interview period. After a few seconds which seemed to drag out for ages, the door opened. 

A very tall, bald man wearing a brown sweater and a pair of glasses frowned down at him. “Can I help you?” he asked. Even in those few words, his Scottish accent was unmistakable. 

Eggsy shuffled his feet. “Yeah. I'm here for the ad?” 

The man raised his eyebrows. “If you've read the ad, you know the interviews ended two hours ago.” 

“So the position has been filled?” Eggsy asked. 

The man pressed his lips together. “Come in.” 

****

They went upstairs, into an office of sorts, which was for some reason hung with newspapers. Eggsy tried to find some relation in the headlines, but they were all quite random, and the only common factor seemed to be that they were all of The Sun. This man, whoever he was, had shit taste in newspapers. 

The bald man turned around, extended his hand, and said “I'm Merlin. And you are?” 

Eggsy shook his hand. “Eggsy.” Merlin hadn't bothered giving him his last name -or possibly first- so Eggsy didn't either. 

“Eggsy?” Merlin repeated, as if Merlin was a perfectly normal name. 

“Yeah,” Eggsy said. 

“Very well. Sit down.” Merlin took a seat behind the desk, and Eggsy let himself fall into the chair across from it. “Do you have any experience with cleaning?” Merlin asked, taking an iPad from the drawer. He started typing. 

“Uhm… yeah? I guess.” His mum did most of the housework, but Eggsy helped out wherever he could. 

“Cooking?” 

“Sure, I can cook.” He knew how to use an oven and a microwave, that counted as cooking, right? 

“Have you ever taken care of someone?” Merlin's eyes bored into his. 

Eggsy stared back without blinking. “Yes,” he said confidently, and this time it wasn't a lie or a half-truth. “My little sister. She is five.” He smiled when he mentioned Daisy. 

Merlin nodded, while typing. “Do you have any medical training?” 

Eggsy took his cap off, scratched his head, and put the cap back on. “Yeah, I was in the marines, so I know the basics.” 

That seemed to pique Merlin's interest. “You were? For how long?” 

Eggsy hesitated. Merlin would not be impressed. “A year.” 

“Why did you leave?” Merlin asked sharply. His tone of voice, the judgement that was layered into it, made Eggsy feel defensive immediately. 

“Because my dad died in the marines. And my mum was worried sick that something would happen to me.” 

Merlin nodded, though he didn't offer his sympathies. “And what have you done since?” 

“Nothing,” Eggsy said with a sigh. He would not get the position, that much was certain. “Why do I need medical training anyway? You seem like a healthy lad.” 

Merlin raised his eyebrow at being called 'lad', but didn't comment on it. “It's not for me. I just do the hiring process.” He typed some more, and Eggsy wondered what the hell he was writing down the whole time. Merlin looked at him, scrutinizing him, sizing him up. “Can you lift a grown man?” 

Eggsy snorted. “Want me to try? I mean, you're pretty tall, but I can try. If you're into that.” He wasn't sure, but he thought he heard someone laugh in the distance. Probably someone outside. 

Merlin sighed loudly, looking at the ceiling for a moment, before he said “A simple 'I think I can' or 'I don't think I can' will do, Eggsy.” 

“I think I can,” Eggsy said, mocking Merlin's annoyed tone. 

Merlin took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. He looked exhausted. “Are you squeamish around blood?” he asked then, without looking at Eggsy. 

Eggsy shrugged. “No.” growing up with Dean around had made that impossible. He was used to blood, and he didn't mind it, as long as it wasn't Daisy's or his mum's. 

“Good,” Merlin said. 

“Why though? Is this person a serial killer? Does he want me to wrap his victims in tinfoil and stuff them in a freezer?” 

Merlin looked puzzled. “Tin foil? Do you mean cling-film?” 

Eggsy held his hands up. “Damn dude, that's a weird part of the sentence to focus on.” He heard the soft laughter again, and wasn't so sure anymore that it was from outside. 

Merlin looked even more annoyed than before. “Alright, I think that's all I need to know. I will contact you to let you know if you have the job or not. What's your number?” 

Eggsy rattled off his mobile number, and he wasn't entirely sure, but it seemed as if whatever Merlin typed in was considerably shorter. He was not getting a call back then, but he hadn't expected to. 

Merlin walked him to the door. “You'll hear from us, mister Unwin,” he said, and closed the door. 

Eggsy was halfway home before he realised he had never given Merlin his last name. 

****

Eggsy was listening to music while lying on his bed, when the shrill sound of his phone ringing broke through the heavy beat. He didn't open his eyes, just reached for his phone without looking at who called, and took one earbud out. “Yo, what's up?” Eggsy asked, holding the phone to his ear. 

“… This is Merlin speaking. I have good news for you, you have the position.” 

“What?!” Eggsy said, ripping the other earbud out. “You're fucking with me!” There was no way he had the job, not after that disaster of an interview. 

Merlin sighed. “Don't worry, I don't understand it either.” 

Eggsy heard faint laughter, followed by another one of Merlin's earth-shattering sighs. “Do you still want the job, or not?” 

Eggsy sat up. “I… well, yes, of course.” How the hell had he gotten the job? How bad had the other candidates been? They had to be incredibly desperate to hire him, but the pay was good, so he was not complaining. 

“Can you start tomorrow?” 

Really, really desperate. “Uhm. Yeah? Why not?” 

“Good. Be there at eight, you know the address.” 

“Eight? In the morning?” He said the word 'morning' with so much disgust that one might think he was talking about a snake-infested swamp, instead of a time of day. 

“Yes, mister Unwin. In the morning.” Then, softer and slightly muffled. “Oh, wipe that stupid grin off your face, you haven't had to deal with him yet.” 

Eggsy felt slightly offended – and oddly proud. This person he was actually going to work for seemed to have a sense of humour at least. It had to be the person Merlin was addressing, right? Who else could it be? 

Merlin was back on the line. “I will see you at eight. In the morning. Good night, mister Unwin.” 

“Yeah, tomorrow. Bye.” Eggsy hung up. He had no clue how or why, but he had gotten himself a job. He set his alarm unwillingly, and smiled to himself. A job. A real, proper job. He wanted to tell his mum, but thought it better to wait. It would be embarrassing if he were to get fired on his first day. And judging by the way Merlin had spoken of him, that was a big possibility. 

****

“Not two hours late this time, I see.” Merlin said with a smirk. Eggsy was right on time, a fact he was very proud of, thank you very much. He was even wearing his best clothes; the white Adidas sneakers with the wings, dark jeans, and his black and yellow windbreaker. “Come in, we'll talk in the office.” 

Eggsy noticed he said 'the office' instead of 'my office', and wondered if it meant Merlin didn't actually live here. 

As they sat down, Merlin said “Your contract is for three months. It might be extended. This first day is a trial of sorts, and since I haven't given you a lot of information about the job, I think it is only fair to give you the possibility to back out of it. If you don't want the job, I'd like to hear it tonight.” 

That was not a very long time to decide, but whatever. It was more likely he'd be fired than to be quitting after one day. 

“The job is, essentially, taking care of a disabled man. Do you know what paraplegia means?” 

Eggsy almost made a sarcastic remark about that. He had been in the marines, after all, and paraplegia was something that came up in conversations from time to time. Wounded veterans, the fears some had of it happening to them… the conversations were never cheerful, nor very informative, but he knew what it was. “That you can't move your legs,” he said. 

Merlin nodded. “Exactly. The person you're hired to assist is downstairs, in the living room. We'll go meet him in a few minutes. Since it is your first day, and I needed to go over paperwork with you, I have helped him downstairs and such. From tomorrow, that is your job.” He shuffled some papers on his desk. “Harry is forty-nine years old. He has been in the chair for a few years, and is pretty mobile.” It all sounded like a rehearsed speech, like he had said it dozens of times before. Eggsy wondered how often he did this, this hiring process. It certainly sounded like he did it on autopilot. “So yes, while mister Hart does not require a lot of help, there are some things he needs assistance with. This has mainly to do with the stairs.” 

That seemed rather obvious. Eggsy bit his tongue.

“Since this is a monumental building, we are not allowed to put in a lift. This means mister Hart will have to be helped downstairs in the morning, and upstairs in the evening. You will probably not need to help him with more intimate things, like showering, but sometimes he loses use of his hands and will need your help. I trust you will do so with maturity.” 

Oh God. He was really not going to bathe some old bloke. No way. But he smiled politely as if it was no problem at all. 

“Your tasks are mainly; keeping the house clean, doing the shopping, and cooking. If anything happens that makes you think Harry is not well, I want you to call me immediately.” 

It was funny how he went from calling the man 'Harry' to 'mister Hart' and back, without noticing it. Which one was the slip of the tongue? Was he a friend who tried to be professional, or a distant relative or something who slipped into what he called him in his head? 

Merlin pushed the papers towards Eggsy and handed him a pen. “Please sign here.” 

Eggsy skimmed over the contract and signed it. He slid it back over the table, and Merlin put it neatly in a folder. Merlin tapped his fingers on the desk and said “That's about it. Do you have any questions?” 

“No,” Eggsy said. It was all pretty straightforward. 

“Good, then I only have two remarks left to make. Be careful on the stairs, not just when assisting mister Hart, but also when you walk on them alone. They are steeper than they look, and we have lost a few carers before due to them taking a tumble.” 

Eggsy wanted to ask if this meant the carers had died, or were just fired, but Merlin continued with a remark that was so odd, and so definitive, that the other one disappeared from his mind at once. “And don't ask mister Hart why he is in a wheelchair.” 

****

“So, why are you in a wheelchair?” Eggsy asked, as soon as he heard the door close behind Merlin. 

They had walked downstairs, into the living room, and Merlin had introduced them to each other. The man in the wheelchair had looked up from his newspaper when they walked in, and had looked at Eggsy blankly. For a moment Eggsy had wondered if he was mentally not all there either, but then Merlin said “Eggsy, meet mister Hart. Harry, meet your new carer. Eggsy.” He had said Eggsy's name with a slight hesitation, and Eggsy thought he saw him roll his eyes a bit. 

Harry had rolled forwards in his wheelchair, an electric thing with a joystick, and had shaken Eggsy's hand. “Nice to meet you,” he'd said, and it sounded as if they both knew it was a lie. Eggsy had simply nodded. 

They eyed each other with curiosity and a bit of hostility. 

Merlin either didn't notice, or didn't care, cause he simply said “If there is a problem, let me know. Don't get too attached.” He gave both a warning look. “See you later, Harry.” Then he had put his hand on Harry's shoulder for a moment and left, leaving the two of them to stare at each other awkwardly. And then Eggsy had asked the question. 

Harry Hart' s expression was completely blank, perhaps with a bit of a frown, but that could just be what his face always looked like. “I'm pretty sure Merlin told you not to ask me that.” 

Eggsy shrugged. Merlin should have known this was the surest way to get him to ask.

“Well, I can tell you this. I'm in a wheelchair because I can't walk.” Harry gave him a fake smile for a second. 

Eggsy rolled his eyes. “I never would have guessed.” 

“You seem determined to get fired.” Harry said. He sounded posh, very unlike Merlin's Scottish brogue. Basically, he sounded exactly like Eggsy would have expected based on the house, and exactly like the kind of person Eggsy despised.

“Isn't Merlin is charge of that?” Eggsy asked. “He isn't here to hear it.” 

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Merlin has eyes and ears everywhere.” 

Eggsy scoffed. “If 'everywhere' is on his face, then yes. Is Merlin his first or his last name?” 

“Yes.” Harry said, and for the first time, some kind of amusement shone through his carefully blank exterior. 

Eggsy sighed. “All right, never mind. Be mysterious about it. And that.” He gestured at the wheelchair. “What am I supposed to be doing anyway? Make you tea?” 

“Yes. That's all you have to do. Make me tea.” Harry didn't look amused anymore, just tired and a little annoyed. 

“No need to be a cunt- to be horrible about it.” Eggsy said. “Merlin has not exactly given me a lot of information about this job.” 

“So it seems.” Harry said. He sighed. “I don't know, you can look if there's anything you can clean. And after that, you can do the dishes.” he steered his wheelchair back to the table where he had been reading the newspaper. He looked at the solitary cup of tea on the table. “Or dish.” 

Eggsy looked at Harry, who had picked up his newspaper again and ignored him. Harry had thick, dark hair which was parted on one side and combed back. He wore dark glasses that matched his brown eyes, and a dark pair of trousers with a crisp white shirt. He had what Roxy would call a butt chin, but what Eggsy referred to as a 'Lantern Jaw of Justice' after he had read the term somewhere. He actually looked rather good. 

It's just the white t-shirt effect, Eggsy told himself. Anyone looked good in that. Even an almost fifty-year old cripple who was rather rude. “Alright then,” he said, more to himself than to Harry, and walked into the kitchen. He would get some cleaning supplies and then explore the house a bit, 'looking for things to clean'. Maybe Harry had some dirty little secrets hidden away somewhere. He had to. The upper class was full of secrets. It was the only thing they had more of -and were more protective about- than their money. 

He rummaged through the cupboards under the counter, and found a bucket and cleaning supplies. He filled the bucket with warm water, threw in a generous amount of the all-purpose cleaner, and grabbed a yellow microfibre cloth. Harry looked up briefly as Eggsy passed him. He looked amused, though Eggsy didn't quite know why. He ignored it, and thought nothing of it. He really, really should have.

****

Harry almost wept tears of joy when he heard the blood-curdling scream, followed by the door to his bathroom being slammed shut with as much force as if Eggsy had to try to keep an entire army out. He raised his fists in victory, and choked back laughter. He took a deep breath and made his face carefully blank again. He looked at his newspaper, pretending to read for the few seconds it took the young man to march back to the living room.

“There is a DEAD DOG IN YOUR BATHROOM!” Eggsy sounded offended, appalled, and scared all at once. Harry turned his wheelchair to look at him, and couldn't contain a grin. The boy's face showed a hilarious mixture of emotions, like he wasn't quite sure what to feel. His trousers were wet. Eggsy saw him look and said “That's just water, so you can wipe that shit-eating grin off your face!” 

Harry grinned even wider. “That is not the way to talk to your employer.” 

Eggsy scoffed. “And you know what isn't the way to welcome your employee? Dangling a FUCKING DEAD DOG IN THEIR FACE!” He had opened the bathroom door with the bucket of water still in his hand. As the door swung open, he was face to face with Death itself, as some kind of hell-hound swung towards him, stopping only an inch from his face. It was that moment that he had let out a quite embarrassing scream, and had dropped the bucket all over his pants. The dog swung back, moving up and down on its elastic cord. Eggsy slammed the door shut and clutched his chest. Then he strode to the living room, ready to cuss the shit out of this snobbish piece of shit called Harry Hart. 

Now though, now he saw the amusement on Harry Hart's face, his anger ebbed away. “What the actual fuck was that all about?” he asked. His heart was still racing. “This could have bloody killed me, you know that? How the fuck did you even manage that? Did Merlin help?” 

Harry shrugged. “I've gotten quite good at it by now. See it as a hazing ritual.” 

Eggsy looked down at his wet pants. “Let me get this straight. Every time you have a new employee, you hook your dead dog up to a bungee cord, and tie it to the door, so it will shoot right up into the face of the first bastard to open the door?” 

Harry grinned. “Yes. And I rate their screams. Yours was quite pretty.” 

“Fuck off,” Eggsy said, and walked out of the living room. He opened the door to the bathroom carefully, but the dog was just swinging peacefully. Now that he got a better look, he saw it was a really small dog, a fact which only made his scream more embarrassing. And it was, apparently, called Mr. Pickle. “Fucking weirdo,” Eggsy mumbled. Still, he was impressed by it on some level. For someone in Harry's position, making this entrapment would take a long time, even if he had done it before. The elastic cord was wrapped around the dogs belly, and was hooked over the chandelier (Who had a fucking chandelier in their bathroom? Honestly?) in some weird pattern, with the other end tied to the doorknob. Eggsy walked in and closed the door behind himself, studying it. The dog must have been standing on the chandelier before he opened the door. He lifted it now, placing it where he thought it must have stood. Then he opened the door again, very slowly. It was amazing. He probably could look at it for hours and not figure it out. The movement of the door, and the lessened tightness of the rope, set a whole lot of things in motion within the intricate pattern on the chandelier. He couldn't quite tell how or why, but the movements somehow pushed or pulled the dog off its place, causing it to fall down three feet and swing towards the door. It was as impressive as it was weird. Clearly, Harry had a lot of time on his hands. 

Eggsy mopped up the mess he had made, and untied the dog. He left the cord where it was. First of all, because he didn't feel like untangling that mess, and second of all because it might save Harry some time the next time, which would probably be the next day or so. The only thing that gave away that a disabled person lived here, was the white, plastic handle next to the loo, which could be folded up to not be in the way, or folded down to be leant on. Harry probably had to hold on to it to lift himself from the chair to the toilet and back. Well, at least it meant Eggsy wouldn't have to help him with that. He cleaned the bathroom, which didn't really need cleaning, and was disappointed he didn't find any dirty magazines or embarrassing creams. Posh people probably kept things like that safely stowed away in a locker. He emptied the bucket, picked up the stuffed dog, and went back into the living room. “Where do you want me to put this?” 

Harry had been staring out the window, and now looked up for a second. “Please put Mr Pickle on the edge above the loo.” 

Eggsy rolled his eyes at the name, but did as he was told. As he came back, he asked “Does … Mr Pickle… like to look at people when they are having a shit?” 

For the briefest moment, Harry looked amused. Then he seemed to retreat back into himself and didn't answer the question. 

Eggsy stood there for a few seconds, then he grabbed the bucket again. Maybe upstairs something would need cleaning.

Sadly, everything was spotless. It should have made Eggsy happy, since it meant he didn't actually have to do any work, but it made him miserable. There was nothing to do. He looked at the newspapers on the office wall again, trying to find a pattern, but didn't find it. He didn't want to go downstairs and sit in awkward silence with Harry. He knew he had said the word 'fuck' at least three times already, probably more often, and he didn't think he'd be around tomorrow. 

And yet, he was curious about this guy. How did a man like that even end up in a wheelchair? Maybe he had been in the army. Or it was a bungee jumping accident. Wasn't that what rich people did on holiday? Throw themselves off cliffs and bridges, with nothing but a bungee cord or parachute to break their fall? Perhaps the thing Mr Pickle had been tied to was the bungee cord that had snapped and caused Harry to fall. It would be as if he had his murder weapon in the house. Well, not murder. Obviously. Still, the thought was so strange that Eggsy dismissed it. He opened a door, to Harry's bedroom as it turned out. The floorboard creaked. It was barely audible, but still Eggsy closed the door again. He didn't want it so seem like he was snooping, even though he was. The only thing he saw before he closed the door, was another wheelchair. 

****

Harry heard the young man walk around upstairs. The faint creak of the floorboards through the ceiling told him Eggsy had arrived at his bedroom. The sound stopped. Eggsy didn't go in. Interesting. Most carers didn't hear the sound, or thought Harry would not hear it downstairs. Some didn't care. Privacy, as so many things these days, was dead for him.

Eggsy started to hoover the hallway upstairs, and then every room, except the bedroom. 

When Harry heard Eggsy come down again, he pretended to read the paper he had finished some time ago. 

“Hey bruv. D'you need me to clean anything in your bedroom? I looked in, but I wasn't sure if there was anything that needed to be done.” 

Harry turned to look at him. Eggsy's pants still were a bit wet, but the boy didn't seem bothered by it. “Nothing, thanks. Merlin has a schedule of things that need to be done. It's in the kitchen cabinet.” 

“Ah, right.” Eggsy went into the kitchen. Harry heard him open some cabinets until he found the right one. “It doesn't say when you want your lunch. Is that one of the things Merlin lets you decide for yourself?” he asked loudly from there. 

If Eggsy had bothered to take the few steps to the door, he would have seen the bitter expression on Harry's face when he asked that, just for a moment. 

“About now would be fine.” He just ate when he was hungry, which meant that some days he ate one meal, on others he ate five. Merlin scolded him for it, he thought it was good to have routine. Harry thought that even more routine might actually kill him, and had said so to Merlin, while decidedly tearing all mealplans off the wall. That was a few years ago. Merlin had since long accepted his peculiarities about food. 

“What do you want to eat?” Eggsy asked, still from the kitchen. Harry heard him flip over one of the laminated schedules. Merlin liked to laminate things. It was one of his weirder obsessions. Actually, scratch that, it was one of the more normal ones. 

“Doesn't matter. Whatever you like,” Harry said flatly. He was tired. Tired of all of it. He tried counting how many carers he had seen come and go in the last few months, and the number he arrived at didn't make him happy. He hated having new people around. Well, he hated all people around, not just new ones, but especially them. Merlin was the only person he could be around without wanting to claw his eyes out, and that was only because he had known him for almost thirty years and Merlin wasn't around a lot. Well, a bit more these last few months. Since Harry had started going through carers like crazy again. But still. Not often enough to do irreparable damage to their friendship.

Eggsy busied himself in the kitchen, and Harry suspected it took a long time because he didn't want to spend more time than absolutely necessary in his presence. He couldn't blame him. In fact, it was quite a relief. 

That was why Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise when Eggsy came back, and the lunch he set down on the table in front of Harry looked edible. More surprisingly, it looked as if it might actually have taken that much time. Eggsy took his own plate to the end of the table and sat down there. They would not have to look at each other awkwardly. Harry looked down at his lunch, aware that he must look like an idiot, full of surprise. But it looked GOOD. Two thick slices of wholegrain toast, with a thick layer of garlic cream cheese, some tomato slices, lettuce and fresh basil. He looked at Eggsy, who had already taken a big bite of his own toast and looked a bit taken aback when he saw Harry stare at him. 

“Ne'er 'ad 'is be'ore?” he asked, with his mouth full. He put his hand in front of his mouth, chewed quickly, swallowed, and said “Sorry. Never had this before?” 

Harry shook himself out of his daze. “It's just that...” he didn't know what it was. That he hadn't expected the boy to make actual food, instead of throwing some cereal in a bowl, like another carer had done when Harry couldn't be bothered to give instructions? “I didn't even know I had garlic cream cheese,” he said with a tight smile, and then finally took a bite. It tasted heavenly. Maybe it was because he had gotten used to bad food, or it was the time of year, anyway, he got strangely emotional over it. 

Eggsy shrugged. “You didn't. But you had cream cheese and garlic, so now you have garlic cream cheese.” He took another bite, and this time actually chewed until his mouth was empty before he said “Do you like it?” 

Harry simply nodded. He didn't know what to say. He had underestimated the boy, based on… on what? On what Merlin had said? That Gary “Eggsy” Unwin was the most annoying person he had ever met? That he was rude, and had no experience, and was cocky and… rude? Why would any of that mean he wouldn't know how to make lunch? Harry almost laughed. Wasn't he the one always going off about how snobby Kingsman was? And now look at him, gaping in surprise at a young petty thief who knew how to use a kitchen. If Arthur could see him now, he would give him a smug smile, and say that deep down Harry was like the rest of them. Maybe he was right. 

He was so lost in his own world, that the words didn't really dawn on him at first. Only when he noticed that Eggsy was looking at him in anticipation, he realised Eggsy had spoken. “Sorry?” he said.

Eggsy smiled. “I said, you haven't answered my question yet.” 

“Which question?” Harry asked. His right arm cramped, which he tried to ignore. Just the time of year, nothing more. 

“How you ended up with that kicking machine under yer arse. Buttocks, I mean.” He pulled a face, which said something like 'is that better?'. 

Harry finished his first slice of toast, and then said “Okay. I'll tell you. But I don't want you to tell anyone else.” He wasn't sure why he did it. He just knew that something inside him wanted to talk. He had been quiet for too long. Lost and alone in his own thoughts for such a long time, that every thought, every memory, became toxic. It would be nice to just talk, to blabber on. The boy might still quit his job within a few days, so it didn't matter. No one wanted to be around old, bitter Harry Hart. Not even Harry himself. 

Eggsy's face lit up. “If there's one thing I can do, it's keep my mouth shut,” he said.

And make some damn good toast, Harry thought. He cleared his throat, feeling a bit awkward even though Eggsy didn't know his thoughts. “It was six years ago,” that much was true, but Merlin had probably told him that anyway. “I was at a party at a friends house, here in London. A posh affair, if you know what I mean. Boring. Expensive. Everyone was in smoking and evening dress. Waiters were walking around with glasses of champagne and hors d'oeuvres. There was polite chatter, mingling, the usual.” He saw Eggsy's eyes gleam with anticipation. Harry lowered his voice. “And then, a fight broke out. The host, Rupert Prescott, caught his best friend -or should I say- former best friend, with his own fiancée.” 

Eggsy grinned, probably thinking something about depraved posh people.

“They fought each other, while the now ex-fiancée begged them to stop. It was not a real fight, just some punches and stuff like that, it's almost impossible to fight while wearing a smoking. But then, the fight got bitter. A waiter passed, with dirty cutlery on his tray, wanting to bring it to the kitchen. One of the men, Prescott, suddenly reached out and grabbed a knife off the tray.” 

Eggsy's grin widened. 

“He stabbed his friend, pulled out the knife, and went to stab him again. I interfered. I managed to take the knife from him, but in the process we had stumbled towards the balustrade. There was a kind of courtyard below, with fountains and such, and from the balustrade the view was breathtaking. It was also roughly six meters up. But I didn't know that. I only knew I finally had taken the knife away from him, and that there was a bleeding man on the ground, and I paid no mind to my surrounding. So when Prescott pushed me, I was not afraid. I simply took a step back to regain my balance, but I ended up with my back against the balustrade. And I know he had never wanted this to happen, but he was seeing red, he was so incredibly angry that I had taken the knife from him, so he pushed me again and I tumbled over the railing. Fell six meters down, landed with my back on the fountain, broke my spine. And now I'm here.” 

Eggsy shifted in his chair. He looked so happy that it seemed like he must burst. “Bullshit!” he exclaimed cheerfully, and burst into roaring laughter. 

Harry's face fell. Sure, he had made everything up on the spot, but he was a bit offended that Eggsy would just assume that. 

“Bullshit,” Eggsy said again, and rubbed his face, as if to wipe away his grin. It didn't work. “You're a good storyteller though, really set the scene. But Harry… if you gonna get into detail, at least make it believable. There is exactly one Rupert Prescott in London, and while I don't doubt he is a cunt, he has never stabbed his 'former best friend' for running off with his fiancée.” Eggsy chuckled. “First of all, this Rupert Prescott is roughly seventy years old, and your story sounded like a younger bloke. Secondly, he has been married for a REALLY long time. And third of all, there is no fucking courtyard in their house.” 

Harry gave him a sour look. “And how would you know all of this?” 

Eggsy chewed his lip, still grinning. “Fine. But don't tell anyone else.” 

Harry was annoyed at hearing his own words repeated back at him, but he nodded nonetheless. He was curious what Eggsy had to say.

“There was a wedding to be held at the Prescott's house. Not his own wedding, obviously. But my mate Jamal worked as a cater-waiter back then, and somehow got me to fill in for someone else who was sick or something. So I have walked around in that house, and there is no courtyard. And I've seen Rupert Prescott, and that dude is so wrinkly, if you'd iron him, you could make a second Rupert out of his excess skin.” He laughed at his own description, and then looked smug. “And I know he is the only Rupert Prescott because I wanted to know if this was THE Rupert Prescott who was rumoured to be easily tricked into giving pretty young things the number to his safe.” 

“And did he? Give you the number?” 

Eggsy looked as if he would have spat out his drink if he had had one. “No! Jesus! Young women I mean. I just wanted to know if this was the same bloke.” He frowned. “I'm not sure if I should be insulted.” 

“I'm not sure either,” Harry said. He sounded bitter, he knew it. He ate his second piece of toast in silence, and declined Eggsy's offer of making more. He was exhausted. While blabbing his way through a bullshit story had cheered him up briefly, he was back at that dark place, that place that Merlin could never understand, or follow him into, and could not pull him out of. Neither could Eggsy. But at least Harry didn't have to watch as Eggsy tried.

****

The rest of the day was spent in uncomfortable silence. Eggsy thought he'd go mad. After doing the dishes, there was nothing left to do, so he just sat at the far end of the couch while Harry watched all kinds of stupid TV programs. He changed the channel every few minutes, as if nothing could hold his attention, and it annoyed the shit out of Eggsy, though he didn't say anything about it. 

Harry received a text message which he ignored, followed by at least ten messages a few minutes later, in rapid succession, as if whoever sent them had decided to send his message again, word by word. Harry closed his eyes for a moment, and texted something back. Whatever it was, it only had a few letters, and the look on Harry's face made Eggsy almost certain it had been swearwords. 

“What do you want for supper?” Eggsy asked at six. He'd been staring at the clock for a long time, and finally felt like he could ask. Making supper would give him something to do, and since he had no idea when Harry would be going to bed, he didn't know how long this day would take. 

“Nothing.” Harry grumbled. “If you want something, go ahead. If you'd rather go out for a pizza or something you can do that. There's money in the till.” 

Eggsy wanted to decline at first, or tell Harry that he had to eat, but he thought better of it. Harry was a grown man, and if he didn't want to eat, that was his business. Going out would give Eggsy some precious time away from this maddening silence. “Sure,” he said, and was secretly relieved when he grabbed some cash and made for the door. “Is there a spare key?” he asked. 

Harry didn't look at him, and changed the channel again. “I'm capable of opening the door in my 'kicking machine' which I have under my 'arse – no, buttocks'. 

Eggsy didn't bother trying to hide his annoyance. “Good,” he said, and went into the hallway. On a desk in the hallway, on a blue and white plate, there was a key. “Fuck you,” he mumbled under his breath, and took the key. He couldn't stand Harry Hart, and he knew the feeling was entirely mutual.

****

He sat down with his fries and texted Roxy

\- got new job. Is shit. Boss is angry whole time. Has dead dog in loo!

He got a text back, a few minutes later, consisting entirely of the words HAHAHA over and over again. 

Then, another one.

\- What kind of dog?

\- A dead one

he texted back. Wasn't that enough information?

He ate slowly, dreading going back. In a way, it was a relaxing thought that he would probably be fired immediately. But on the other hand, he could really use the money. And, he admit it to himself, he was curious. Not just why Harry was in a wheelchair, though that question had turned into a small obsession over the last few hours, but also why he was so… weird. So annoyed one moment, and almost friendly the next. Eggsy had noticed the look of shock on Harry's face when he saw the lunch, which made Eggsy kind of sad now he thought back on it. He didn't know what kind of people had helped Harry before, but if Harry was impressed by this food, they must have been shit. Hell, for Merlin to even consider hiring him the rest must have been shit.

Once he could really not draw it out any longer, he went back to Harry's house. He let himself in, not even caring that Harry might think it was rude, and was surprised to smell food. Harry was in the kitchen, stirring a pan of soup. He had to hold his arm in an uncomfortable high position to reach the pan, and Eggsy thought it was probably not very safe to do this. If Harry moved his arm back or something, he would pull the pan off the stove with the spoon, and it would all end up in his lap. 

“Could've brought you something if you wanted.” he said.

Harry kept stirring. “I got peckish suddenly.” 

Eggsy looked at the empty can on the counter. Vegetable soup. “Well, I hope you have a nice meal,” he said, and went back to sitting on the couch. 

A few minutes later, Harry wheeled in, a bowl of hot soup in his lap. Eggsy followed his movements with concern. He had visions of the bowl tipping over and giving Harry third-degree burns. But nothing happened. Harry positioned himself at his standard spot at the table, the one place out of six that had no chair, and lifted the bowl onto the table. He rubbed his right arm. Eggsy felt smug when he saw it. He had been right; the angle needed to stir the soup was so odd, that Harry would feel his muscles ache for the next day or so. Should've asked me to bring him something, Eggsy thought. 

He received another text, and quickly set his phone to silence. It might not be very professional to be texting during working hours, but Harry just ate his soup, with his back turned to Eggsy and didn't say a word.

\- Has the dog come back to life yet? And what job is it?

\- Wouldn't you want to know? What happened to HAHAHA?

\- I had company ^^ couldn't think of anything else

With Roxy, 'having company' meant she was lying in the arms of a sexy lady. Eggsy grinned. He was tempted to take a picture of Mr Pickle and send back that he, too, had company, but decided against it. 

Harry had finished his soup and wheeled into the hallway, probably on his way to use the toilet. Eggsy wondered what would have happened if he had left Mr Pickle hanging there, though he couldn't imagine that Harry Hart would be shocked by his own dog swinging around while he took a shit. 

Even though Eggsy didn't mean to, he listened intently, aware of any sounds that might be Harry losing his balance and falling out of his chair. 

Harry came back surprisingly quickly, and Eggsy reminded himself that Harry did this multiple times a day. “I'd like to go upstairs.” Harry said. His face was completely closed off, the same blank mask it had been when they were first introduced. 

“Oh,” Eggsy got up. Oh shit. How? He should have asked Merlin. Panic overwhelmed him, and he felt his head go fuzzy. How was he supposed to get Harry upstairs, he had no clue how to do it, perhaps he could call Merlin, was it weird if he called Merl-  
He stopped his rambling thoughts, and wanted to kick himself for being so stupid. He didn't have to ask Merlin. He could do one better. He could ask Harry. “What exactly am I supposed to do?” he asked, relieved that his voice sounded calm. 

Harry still looked blank. “First, get the wheelchair from my bedroom, and park it in front of the stairs upstairs. Put the brake on. Then come down again. I can hold on to the railing and pull myself up. You can walk behind me and make sure I don't break every bone in my body if I fall. And if I get stuck you can lift my legs. I'll ask you if it's needed.” 

The message was clear: Do not touch me without my permission. 

Eggsy went upstairs and did as he was told. Then he went down again and stood to the side while Harry drove to the stairs, and parked his wheelchair in such a way it was standing right at the bottom of the stairs. He was facing the railing, and for a moment Eggsy felt uncomfortable, remembering the story of falling over the railing. But that had been fiction. Harry leaned to the side, until Eggsy was sure he'd fall, but he simply grabbed onto the railing and hoisted himself up. He was standing on his wheelchair now, and pulled himself up, so he could place his feet on the bottom stair. He wasn't really standing though. All his weight was carried by his arms, and while his feet touched the ground, they weren't a help at all. 

Eggsy climbed over the wheelchair, vaguely aware that this would be considered a fire hazard if multiple people lived there, and stood behind Harry, as he was told. 

Harry moved his hands up the railing and jumped a bit, hopping onto the next stair. It must require a lot of upperbody strength to do so, since there was no break from the weight on his arms at any time. 

Eggsy watched him with growing respect. Standing this close, it was obvious that Harry was very muscular. At least his arms and chest were. Harry kept pushing his whole body up, and dragging his legs over onto the next step, until he was on the last step, almost at the wheelchair that was waiting for him. “Go stand in front of me,” he said, and Eggsy quickly and carefully walked past him and waited for further instructions. “Hook your arm around me. Make sure you're certain you can hold my weight.” 

From where Eggsy was standing, he faced Harry from the side. He put his arms around Harry's ribcage, hooking his arm around him so his hand was on Harry's chest. He held onto the railing with his free hand, and braced himself. “I've got you,” he said. 

“I'm going to put my weight on you now,” Harry said, “you only have to make sure you drop me in the chair, and not next to it.” 

He slowly got heavier in Eggsy's arm, and Eggsy pulled him in, towards the wheelchair. He took a step to the side rather awkwardly, and now all of Harry's weight was on Eggsy's left arm, and Eggsy turned Harry's body around slowly and lowered him into the wheelchair. He didn't immediately let go of him, afraid that Harry would topple over and fall headfirst down the stairs. 

But Harry straightened up in the chair, and everything was okay. “Thank you,” he said, and it sounded cold. 

Eggsy understood why. It had to be a terrible feeling to not be able to do things like this by yourself, to have to thank people for helping you with mundane tasks, or sounding like a dick when you didn't. “We've survived,” he said, trying to sound cheerful, but it sounded flat. 

“Yes,” Harry said. It didn't sound cheerful at all. He took the brake off, and put his hands on the wheels, moving the chair backwards, away from the stairs. Then he turned, and wheeled himself to his bedroom. 

“Is there anything else I can do?” Eggsy asked. 

Harry shook his head. “No. I'll read a bit and then go to bed.” he seemed to realise something. “I'm afraid I left my bowl on the table. I'm sorry about that. You can just leave it, I'll wash it tomorrow. You can go home.” 

Eggsy tried not to show his relief. He stood at the top of the stairs while Harry opened his bedroom door and wheeled in. He turned around, facing Eggsy. “Oh, Eggsy?”

“Yes?”

“I saw you've found the spare key. That's good. But when I'm downstairs, please just use the doorbell.” it didn't sound judgemental or even accusatory. It just sounded tired. And perhaps that was the reason it made Eggsy feel guilty.

“Sorry, I wasn't thinking. Didn't want to be a bother, I guess.” 

“It's alright.” Harry did his best to smile, but didn't succeed. “Good night.” 

Just as he was about to close the door, Eggsy said “Are you ever going to tell me the truth?”

Harry didn't have to ask what it was about. He hesitated in the doorway. “Perhaps. If I like you.” His tone said he wasn't counting on it. 

Neither was Eggsy. He wasn't even sure he really wanted to come back. But he was determined to find out what had happened to Harry, one way or another.


	2. Chapter 2

Merlin texted Harry, asking him to let him know when Eggsy left. He was just finishing the last details of a new mission in Albania, when he got a text back, so he abandoned his work and drove to Harry's house. Harry had said he was upstairs already, so Merlin let himself in with his spare key and went upstairs. He knocked on the bedroom door, and Harry's soft “Come in,” told him that Harry wasn't feeling well. Merlin had gotten quite good at assessing Harry's mood just by the tone of his voice, so he wasn't surprised that Harry looked exhausted. “How was he?” he asked, and sat down in the armchair next to the bed. 

Harry was sitting up against the headboard, with a closed book in his lap. He shrugged. “Rude. Almost had a heart attack when he saw Mr Pickle. Seemed to be bored out of his mind the entire time.” 

“You picked him,” Merlin reminded him, with a rather smug grin. Should have gone for the carer who actually had a reference, but noooo, Harry liked to do things his own way and had immediately said he didn't want her when Merlin showed him her resume. 

“And your face when I did was worth it,” Harry said. 

“What do you want me to do? Call him and say he doesn't have the job?” 

To Merlin's surprise, Harry shook his head. “I don't mind him. Not more than the others.” He stared down at the book in his lap for a moment. Then he looked at Merlin again. “He asked me why I was in a wheelchair. The first thing he said.” 

Merlin shook his head softly while rubbing the back of his head. “I'm so sorry, Harry. I told him not to.” He sighed. “Which is probably the reason he did.” 

Harry shrugged. 

Something about the movement seemed off, but it went by so quickly that Merlin wasn't sure he had seen it right. He searched his mind for a reason -had the medication changed? Had Harry fallen and not told him?- and realised it had to be the time of year, so he didn't comment on it. “What did you say to him?” 

“I lied.” 

Of course he had. There was no way he could ever tell the truth. Not all of it, at least. Harry seemed withdrawn, even more so than usually. Merlin wanted nothing more than to take his mind of the thing that was troubling him, even though he knew he couldn't. He had tried, hadn't he? Had tried for years. “So, he screamed when Mr Pickle flew at him, huh?” he asked cheerfully.

Harry gave him a weak smile. “As if an axe-murderer had jumped at him.” 

Merlin laughed softly. That was pretty much what it felt like as well. He had been the first person ever to be on the receiving end of Harry's boredom, and while he didn't make a sound, he would never tell Harry that he only recognised it was a dead dog, when he was already aiming his gun at it.  
“But other than that and the rudeness, he was adequate?” 

Harry rolled his eyes at the word 'adequate', but said “Sure. Not worse than the others.” 

It was one of Harry's annoying habits; comparing every carer to those before, who had all melted together in his head, into one big, awful person. A few years back, Merlin would have started looking for someone new after a comment like this, but now he knew that 'not worse' was all he could hope for. Eggsy would have to do, if he decided to come back.

****

In the end, it really was curiosity that caused Eggsy to come back. That, and the fact that he had not been fired, to his surprise. It was nerve-wrecking, sitting in his room, waiting for the phone to ring so Merlin could tell him he was done. Eggsy had almost yelled at Roxy when she called, but could keep his nervousness contained; she didn't know she had given him the biggest scare of his life. She had asked how he was doing, and what the hell this job of his was, he had answered that he didn't know whether he still had the job or not, but that it was cleaning, cooking, stuff like that. Roxy had immediately lost interest, and focused on what was really important: “You said something about a dead dog?” He explained the situation to her, and after a moment of stunned silence, she said “I already like this bloke. Is he hot?” 

“Jesus, Roxy! He's forty-nine!” 

“So?” 

“He's a complete dickbag! He made me feel so useless the whole time! And he is posh, like even more posh than you.” 

Roxy laughed about that, then she asked “So, you are anxiously waiting for a call to know if you've passed your trial period?” 

“Something like that.” 

“Good luck, loser. And take a picture of him, I want to see who you're going to be spending all your time with.”

While Eggsy was not planning on taking a picture -it was rude, even by his standards- he was glad he had someone he could talk to about this. The next morning, he showed up at Harry's doorstep at eight sharp and almost rang the doorbell, before realising that Harry would not be down yet, since it was Eggsy's job to help him. He let himself in and climbed over the wheelchair, briefly asking himself what the topspeed of that thing would be, and purposely made his footsteps loud, so Harry would not get a fright when Eggsy suddenly showed up. He knocked on Harry's door, and almost got a fright himself when the door opened immediately. 

“Good morning,” Harry said, and Eggsy had to bite his tongue to not say “Is it?”. Harry looked like he hadn't slept at all. He was dressed though, and his hair was perfect, so he had been up for some time. Who knew how long he had been waiting for Eggsy to arrive. 

Going down the stairs was both better and worse than going up; better because it was easier for Harry, worse because it meant Eggsy had to walk down the stairs backwards. The comment Merlin had made about 'losing some carers' to the stairs echoed in his mind. He could imagine perfectly well that some unfortunate people had fallen down the steep stairs. Perhaps that was what had happened to Harry; he had fallen down the steps and broken his back. Why he still would want to live in the same house was anyone's guess, but it was more believable than the story Harry had spun the other day.

“What do you want for breakfast?” Eggsy asked once Harry was safely sitting in his wheelchair. 

The answer, “I was thinking French toast,” made Eggsy feel inadequate and stupid again. “I'm not entirely sure how to make that,” he admitted. "But there's eggs in it, right? You don't have any eggs, unless there are some in the pantry.” He walked after Harry into the livingroom. 

Harry turned his chair around, and frowned. “The pantry?” 

Oh God. Harry was losing his mind. Or, and it was both a relief and another dent in Eggsy's confidence, he had wrongly assumed something. “The room across the loo? It was locked, so I figured it would be a pantry.” Now that he said it out loud, it didn't make a lot of sense. 

“It's not a pantry. You won't find food in there. I hope.” Harry said, and drove into the kitchen, where he started opening cupboards, looking for something to eat. “Also, why would I lock the pantry? To keep hungry orphans out, like in a Dickens novel?”

“Or carers who like to drink some strong liquor. You seem the kind to own some twohundred-year old wine.” He watched Harry inspect the cupboards. Now he was thinking about it, he realised the room was way too big to be a pantry of any kind. It was as big as the living room, perhaps even bigger. “Anyway, what kind of room is it? If you give me a key, I'll get around cleaning it later.” 

“That won't be necessary,” Harry said. He didn't answer the question what it was though. 

Interesting. Perhaps it was a library or something, or a room full of weird fetish stuff. Or full of dead bodies, and his remark about Harry being a serial killer who wrapped his victims in tin foil, no, cling-film, hadn't been that off the mark. Harry Hart was turning out to be a man of many mysteries. 

“There's bread,” Harry said without much enthusiasm, and then looked at Eggsy. “Have you had breakfast yet?” 

Shit. Should he have done so? Since they had eaten lunch together yesterday, and because everything before seven in the morning was too early for breakfast in Eggsy's opinion, he hadn't eaten anything yet. “No,” he said. 

“Good, because I forgot to say that yesterday. When doing the shopping, you should always buy stuff you like as well, since it would make no sense to go out for lunch and dinner every day, though I certainly won't stop you if you want to do so. And you can have breakfast here if you want, though that is your own choice as well.” 

Eggsy nodded. “Thanks. So… if you give me a list of shit that goes into French toast, I'll go to the shops first.” He thought of something. It might be nice for Harry to go out of the house for a while. “Do you want to come?” 

Harry hesitated, then shook his head. “I'll write you a list. A list of 'shit'.” He opened a drawer and took out a blocknote and a pen. 

Eggsy waited for him to be done, and then read the list over quickly, to make sure he could read everything. Harry's handwriting was very neat and curly. “No cling-film?” he asked innocently. 

Harry smiled faintly, though it was gone within a second. “Not until next month. If all goes well.” 

“I take it my job is safe then.” 

Harry shrugged, as if he had no clue what Eggsy was talking about. “Do you know the way to the store? Merlin has a laminated map somewhere.” He opened a random drawer.

“It's fine, bruv. I looked at it yesterday. If I'm not back within thirty minutes, send the dogs.” 

“I will. I'm sure Mr Pickle has been missing you already.” 

“Oh piss off,” Eggsy said with a grin, winked at Harry, and left.

****

While doing the shopping, he thought about the mysterious room. It could be just an empty room, and the reason Harry was so secretive about it could be because he wanted to seem more interesting than he actually was, though Eggsy didn’t really believe that. Or it was a kind of trap: if he ever broke into that room -and he had the skills for that- some kind of stuffed dead animal would fly at his face, but bigger than the dog. A sheep or something. Or a zebra. Eggsy grinned when he realised how strange his thoughts were. If anyone could hear his thoughts right now, he'd be locked in a loony bin for ever. 

Once he had all items of Harry's list, he also threw in some crisps and coke. He looked down, and realised that he would not be able to haul them all back to Harry's in one go. It looked like he would take the cart with him. Harry would hate that. In Eggsy's neighbourhood, there were shopping carts everywhere. According to Jamal, it was a way of assessing just how poor a neighbourhood really was; the poorest people, who mostly did undeclared work, went to the store almost every day, and didn't need carts. The slightly wealthier people went once a week, since they had no time to go more often, and stuffed their carts as full as possibly. The even more wealthy people could afford to take their cars. Eggsy wasn't sure how accurate this theory was, but he did know that he had never seen abandoned carts in a posh neighbourhood. It would certainly give Harry's neighbours something to talk about. 

****

Harry was glad that Eggsy rang the doorbell this time. He'd had a carer once (not for long, for obvious reasons) who insisted it was 'too much of a hassle' for Harry to open the door for him, and always let himself in, even after Harry specifically asked him not to. For all Eggsy's unrefined ways, he did show at least some respect to Harry's wishes. 

When he opened the door, Eggsy was grinning at him from behind a full cart. “Hi bruv. D'you mind if I put this in the garden for a bit once I've unloaded it?” 

Harry looked at the cart, and at Eggsy, who was wearing Adidas sweat pants, jacket and sneakers. The only way he could be more suspicious to his neighbours was if he was black. Either way, they would hate it, some chav putting shopping carts in the neat gardens. Good. “Of course,” he said, and drove backwards until he could turn into the living room. 

Eggsy pushed the cart into the hallway and through the living room into the kitchen. While unloading, he said “Harry? Do you have wifi in this place?” 

The question sounded so sincerely unsure, that Harry snorted a bit. “Of course. I'm not that old-fashioned. There's running water, too.” He didn't even sound bitter when he said it. Somehow, he knew that Eggsy could stand a bit of ribbing, perhaps even really enjoyed it. And indeed, Eggsy just looked up from the groceries to roll his eyes dramatically, and went back to shoving groceries into random cabinets. He wasn't much of an organiser, that much was certain.

“Can I have the password? To look up recipes and shit.” 

To look up how to make French toast, probably. Harry decided not to make Eggsy feel bad for having to look up something so simple, and just said “Name of the network is Galahad1. Password is YwainTheBastard.” 

Eggsy looked at him blankly and took his phone out of his pocket. “...Okay,” he said. “How the fuck do I spell that?” 

“Which one?” 

“Both.” Eggsy said, as if it was obvious. 

Harry smirked. “Not a fan of Arthurian legend, I see.” 

Eggsy raised his eyebrows, “Is anyone?”. He found the network, and said “Let me guess, it was Merlin who set this up?” When Harry nodded he said “Seems fitting, that he'd want to burden you with those stupid-ass names, since he has one himself.” 

_Says the guy called “Eggsy”_ , Harry thought with amusement, but didn't say it. 

“Alright, so Ywain the bastard? Ywain with a Y?” 

“Y-W-A-I-N. The. Bastard.” 

Eggsy typed it in, while asking “Is there genuinely a guy in the stories who's called that, or does Merlin just dislike that person a lot?” 

“Ywain is an illegitimate child, so it is literal in this case. It really is his name.” 

“Poor soul,” Eggsy said, “So 'bastard' is the real spelling, right? Not the Tarantino-spelling?” 

Harry frowned. “I have no clue what you're talking about, but it is spelled the normal way.” 

Eggsy finished typing, looked satisfied when it connected, and then said “Inglourious Basterds, dude! Never seen it?” 

“I'm afraid not.” 

“Damn, you should watch it, it's amazing!” 

“I'll keep it in mind.” Harry said, though he doubted Eggsy's and his taste in films would overlap in any way. 

****

Eggsy flipped the French toast one last time, and figured it looked reasonably like the picture included in the recipe, so he could probably serve it without killing Harry. Or himself. 

Once they were both eating, he said “You don't have to tell me what's in that room, 'cause I've figured it out. And I'm not judging, mind. But it's definitely dead bodies.” He licked some crumbs off his fingers, and looked at Harry, who looked very unimpressed. 

Harry took a sip of tea and said “You've got me. At night I turn into a serial killer. This chair is just a disguise of sorts, so people will never think it's me, and I store my victims here because I like the smell of rotting flesh so much.” 

While his words seemed to be just some innocent banter, he didn't sound amused at all. Apparently he was not in the mood for jokes. “I'm just saying, if it's an empty room, you can turn it into a bedroom and make your life easier. I can help you paint the walls, and disassemble your bed and drag it down. Maybe put some shelves up for all those books you undoubtedly have about Arthurian legend and taxidermy and stuff like that.” 

“No.” Harry said, and it sounded strangely definitive. “I can't turn it into a bedroom.” 

“Why not?” 

“Just leave it, Eggsy. Please.” He sounded tired, so Eggsy didn't mention it again, and added it to his mental list of mysteries he had to explore. 

****

“And there is an empty room which I'm not allowed to enter, and he doesn't want to turn it into a bedroom either.” He was returning the cart to the store, while speaking to Roxy on the phone.

“Maybe that's where he has his ex-wives. Like Bluebeard.” 

“That's what I thought!” Eggsy said, and mentally high-fived her. “Seriously though, it's super strange. Everything about him is super strange.” 

“I quite like a bit of mystery,” Roxy mused.

“Me too, unless it means I end up on a meathook in his creepy murder-chamber.” 

“If that happens, I come find him and kick the shit out of him.” Roxy said cheerfully, as if she was quite looking forward to it. Kicking the shit out of people was one of Roxy's favourite pastimes, though she preferred to call it “kick-boxing and mixed martial arts.” There was no difference between those terms to Eggsy, except than one would get you arrested, while the other was done indoors and was legal. 

“You're a true friend, Roxy.” He pushed the cart back into place, and took out the coin, dropping it into a homeless man's cup who had strategically positioned himself in plain view of all shop-goers. 

“I know, right? I'm delightful.” Roxy said. Eggsy could practically HEAR her grin. “Take a picture of the dog for me, alright? Since you won't give me a picture of your handsome boss.” 

“Maybe,” Eggsy said. “And I don't know what made you believe he's handsome, but I do know I have said nothing of the sort.” 

“The fact you won't take a stealth photograph of him means you like him despite your moaning about him. And since he sounds like a creep, that must mean he's handsome. Deduction, love. Just call me Sherlock Holmes.” 

Eggsy shook his head at her absurd logic. Then he did his best to sound offended “Does that make me Watson?”

Roxy laughed. “No, that makes you some oblivious idiot who thinks Sherlock is reading his mind, when it is actually just because Sherlock is sooo much better than him.” 

“Okay, Rox. Nice speaking to you, as ever. You've really boosted my confidence. Not.” 

“That's what friends are for. And come over sometime, so we can discuss you butlering and the seven signs that he is definitely a serial killer.” 

“Will do, Rox. See ya.” He hung up. 

****

Harry was scrolling through his never-ending list of films, looking for one he hadn't seen yet, sounded interesting, and would not be too depressing. He didn't succeed, so he decided on “Das Leben der Anderen” which he had seen multiple times, knew to be interesting, and knew to be both depressing and uplifting at the same time. He connected his laptop to his television, while Eggsy was sitting on the couch, leafing through the newspaper. He put the film on, and positioned his chair next to the couch. 

Eggsy looked up from his newspaper. “Do you want to sit on the couch? It seems more comfortable than the wheelchair.” 

“Thank you, but I'm fine.” Harry said. He didn't like leaving his chair unless it was necessary. Being lifted in and out always made him feel like a toddler. He was glad that Eggsy had asked, though. Perhaps he wasn't as annoying as he seemed.

Eggsy still had the papers in his hands, but Harry could see from the corner of his eye that he looked at the TV as well. After the first few minutes, Eggsy hesitantly asked “Is the whole film in German?” 

Harry leaned to the side to stop the film. “I can put subtitles in, if you want?” 

“Oh. I had assumed that it was just the start, you know? That the rest would be in English. But uhm… if it's not too much trouble? Is it a good film?” 

Harry smiled. “It is very good. Even won the Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film of the Year.” He selected the English subtitles. 

“So, you speak German? And you speak it well enough to watch films in it?” It sounded as if he could hardly believe it. 

“I do,” Harry said. “How about you? Any languages you can speak. Besides English, I mean?” He cleared his throat, slightly embarrassed by the awkward wording of his question. 

Eggsy laughed. “Did you just have to try very hard to not make a joke about how my English isn't very good either?” 

Harry just grinned and shrugged. 

“Jesus… But, uhm… no, not really. I can say one word in Welsh though.” He sounded rather proud.

“Let's hear it.” Harry said. 

Eggsy pulled a face. “I'm not sure if it's still any good, but do you know that village with the really long name? Well, Roxy once dared me if I could learn to pronounce it, and so… here we go,” he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and blurted out “Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch. Or something like that.” He opened his eyes, to see Harry barely suppressing his laughter.

“You learned to say that… for a dare?”

“More like a bet,” Eggsy said defensively. “If I could do it, she would pay the drinks. All night! I saved a shitton of money!” 

Harry pressed his lips together and raised his eyebrows, in the universal gesture for 'not bad'. “If you can learn to say that, you can learn to speak German as well.” 

“Why would I want to do that?” 

Harry shook his head in a berating way. “It's a beautiful language, once you understand it. Some of the most beautiful poems are German, as well as literature. Germany has a long tradition of philosophers, artists, authors and film-makers. Don't dismiss it because it sounds harsh to the untrained ear.” 

Eggsy didn't look convinced. “Let's just start with the film, eh? Maybe I'll speak German by the end of it.” 

“Maybe,” Harry said, and restarted the film.

****

“That… was awesome.” It really took Eggsy by surprise how much he had enjoyed the film. “Probably the best ending of any film I have ever seen.” 

Harry smiled. “I'm glad to hear it.” 

“How come you speak German? Did you study it at university?” 

Harry unplugged his laptop, and didn't look at Eggsy when he answered. His smile was sad. “I lived there for a while. It's easy to pick up a language if you put in some effort to talk to locals.” He shut his laptop. His mood had changed again, from the kind of dazed feeling one always has after watching a film, to genuine sadness. 

Eggsy wasn't sure what had brought on the change, but thought it better to change the subject. “Hey Harry. Since we've watched a foreign film together, that pretty much means we have an unbreakable bond forever, right?” 

Harry raised his eyebrows. “… What are you trying to say?” 

Eggsy grinned. “I just thought that, because of this unbreakable bond, you might tell me the truth about what happened.” 

“I didn't know that subtitles were almost a marriage proposal, but fine.” Harry absent-mindedly rubbed his arm. “I don't really like talking about it, because it is… well, it's rather stupid.”

_He's going to tell me_ Eggsy thought. _He really is._ Perhaps the mysterious room, whatever it was, had something to do with it.

“When I was younger, I often went horseback riding. As I got older I did so less often, but on occasions when I had the time I really enjoyed it. Ten years ago, I was invited to go horseback riding in the Highlands in Scotland.” 

Merlin. It had to be. He had invited Harry, and felt responsible for his injury because of it. That was why he did all of this. Of course. 

“It was a fox hunt, officially, but the people I was with didn't really care for that, and neither did I. We'd rather just explore the surroundings a bit, so we went off the paths, and off the usual routes. Eventually, we had to cross a shallow creek.” Harry paused, and Eggsy could feel the danger loom over the story, it was visible on Harry's face as well, like a shadow. “Normally, that is not a problem. There was really no reason why we shouldn't do it. Everyone led their horses into the creek, and so did I. And then, my horse slipped.” Harry moved his fingers almost unnoticeable, curling them slightly around his armrests, as if holding on to the reigns of a horse. “Like I said, I was a fairly experienced rider, so I knew that the worst thing that could happen was to get trapped under my horse as it fell. I managed to swing my leg over the horse's back, so it wouldn't land on me, but my other foot got caught in the stirrup, so as my horse went down, I got dragged with it, and could not prevent landing on my back. The creek was very shallow, and my back hit one of the larger rocks with enough force to lodge itself between my fourteenth and fifteenth vertebrae. As the horse got up, it dragged me along, and… the pain is indescribable. I noticed the exact moment that the pain – and all feeling – just stopped.” He exhaled slowly. “So that's the magnificent story of how some sheer dumb luck turned me into a paraplegic.” He cleared his throat, the shadow disappeared, and he looked almost cheerful, even if his smile seemed to take some effort. “How about some lunch?” 

****

After Eggsy finished doing the dishes, he went back into the living room. Harry was reading a book, and Eggsy didn't want to disturb him, so he sat on the couch and thought Harry's story over. It sounded real enough. This time, there was not one big flaw in it, one giant give-away that it was made up. But there had to be one. Harry had made it very clear he wasn't sure he would ever tell the truth, and if he did, it would be if he decided he liked Eggsy. And despite Eggsy's joke earlier, he knew that a day and a half day of knowing each other did not make a friendship, even if Harry had been nice enough to put subtitles on for him. There was no way he would have told him already. The problem was, that there weren't many facts in the story he could check. There were no names given, no exact times or occurrences… 

He checked his phone, to see that Roxy had sent him a reminder to take a picture of 'the dead dog'. Eggsy went to the bathroom, feeling as if he was doing something illegal, and took a selfie with Mr Pickle. He sent it to Roxy, and while putting the dog back, something occurred to him: foxes. Harry had said it was a fox hunt. In Scotland. It was a bit of a stretch, but maybe there was something there he could use.

****

“Fox hunting was restricted in Scotland in 2002.” Eggsy said, reading it out loud from his phone. 

Harry looked up from his book. “Shit!” he said. 

Eggsy's eyes widened. “That was unexpected!” he exclaimed.

“I can't believe it was the date, of all things, that gave me away.” It was stupid. He had just said a random number of years, not thinking it would be important at all. He touched his lip, mulling over his mistake. 

“I have an idea. To make this more interesting. Cause with how it is right now, you can pretty much just make up whatever you want, and while I enjoy your fantasies, it might be fun to set a rule. Just one.” 

Harry narrowed his eyes. “What kind of rule?” He wasn't really planning on making this easier for the boy than it had to be. 

“That in every story you tell, one element has to be true. And it can be anything, any detail, no matter how small. No matter how outlandish your story is, one thing has to be true, even if it is… I don't know, the bloody weather or something.” Eggsy gave him a pleading look. “Please?” 

Harry thought about it for a moment. Why not? It made it a bigger challenge for himself, which might be fun, and he was still in control completely. “Sure.”

Eggsy looked as if he'd won the lottery. 

“But you cannot ask which element was the truth, and you cannot ask for more than one story a day. And if I don't feel like talking, that's tough luck for you, I'm not going to force myself to do this.” He was aware he sounded grumpy, but Eggsy didn't seem to mind, he nodded enthusiastically. 

“Can I just ask one thing?” he asked, and Harry almost told him that that was 'one thing', so technically, he couldn't anymore. 

“Of course,” he said instead.

“In the stories you've told so far, knife-fight and horse-fall, was there some truth in it? It's only fair if I know, right?” 

Harry closed his eyes, trying to remember what exactly he had made up yesterday. “Yes,” he said eventually. “Both had one truth in them.” 

Eggsy rubbed his hands together excitedly. “Oh man, this is so bloody awesome. It's like one of those children's novels about kid-detectives, where they keep stumbling on clues but don't know what they mean until the very end.” 

His glee was infectious somewhat, even though it was not entirely appropriate. But Harry knew he meant no harm with his excitement, so he didn't feel offended by it. He rolled his eyes. “Why did I hire you?” 

“Because the rest was even worse than I was.” Eggsy chuckled. 

Harry rolled his eyes again. “No one was worse than you. I just wanted to see Merlin's face when I picked you.” He didn't mean anything by it, but Eggsy's good mood disappeared immediately. He looked hurt.

“What?” he asked softly. “You picked me, so you could laugh at Merlin? So you could make a fucking statement? Something like 'Look Merlin, it's really fucking great you take time out of your day to conduct interviews I'm too lazy for, but I'm going to pick someone just because he annoyed you'?” His voice got louder as he talked. “You chose the guy from the council estate over qualified carers to be a dick to your friend?” 

“Eggsy,” Harry said, trying to ease the situation, “that is not what I meant-” 

“Isn't it?!” Eggsy screamed. “Cause to me it sounds like you gave me a job just to have a laugh, and- and this might be a surprise to you, but I really fucking needed the money, and now I hear you would've fired me anyway?!” Somewhere along his tirade, his voice turned from angry to absolutely heartbroken. 

Harry didn't understand. “Eggsy, I only-” 

“I don't give a shit what you think! Call one of the others and tell them they got the fucking job, I didn't like it anyway!” He got up, blinking back angry tears, and took the front door key out of his pocket, which he threw across the room. He was out of the door before Harry could say another word, and the sound of the front door being slammed shut was what Harry imagined it sounded like when a heart broke in two. 

****

Eggsy barely made it out of the posh neighbourhood before he broke down. He sat down on the pavement, covered his face with his hands and started sobbing loudly. A prank. A fucking prank, nothing more. His job, which he had been so proud of, despite his many doubts about it, was the result of a prank. He remembered when he got the phone call of Merlin telling him he had the job, and how Merlin had said something to Harry to the effect of “you're laughing now, let's see how it is once you've met him.” Merlin had known all along that his being hired was just to tease him. Maybe the thing Merlin had said about not getting too attached was an inside joke to Harry, perhaps it had meant “we both know you're going to fire him once you find out how horrible he is.” 

He tried to suppress his tears, but couldn't hold them in. Every time something good happened to him, it was taken away due to circumstances beyond his control. Why should this job be any different?

He cried until he thought he didn't have any tears left, and then he got up. Fuck Harry Hart. No one could put Eggsy Unwin down.

No one at all.

****

Harry felt miserable. How could he have fucked up this bad? He hadn't meant to hurt the boy at all; he had assumed Eggsy knew he had objectively been the worst candidate. No prior experience, no reference, nothing… 

He shouldn't have said this, he knew it, but it was too late now. The way Eggsy's disbelief had turned into anger and then into sadness was weighing heavily on his mind. It was as if Eggsy had been through something like this before. As if this only confirmed what he had expected all along. 

He was starting to panic. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Merlin was out of the country. He would be back in a week. All folders with contact information of other carers were upstairs. And trying to go upstairs would mean putting himself at great risk. If he fell, he could be lying there with broken bones until he was found, or until he…

And he wouldn't be found. 

Or he could go outside now, ask a neighbour to go upstairs and fetch the contact info for him, and start placing calls at once. He didn't fancy that option either. He hated his neighbours with a passion that was both fierce and unfounded. 

His mind drifted away from his own situation to Eggsy's. He could only imagine how he must feel. Like he had been made a fool of. The punchline to a cruel joke. He had relied on this income, that much was clear. Harry remembered how Eggsy had mentioned in the interview that he had a little sister, and that his father was dead. What if he was the only breadwinner in the family? What did all of this mean to Eggsy's family? Harry's stomach hurt. He was worried about Eggsy and his family, he felt guilty for having been so careless, and he had no idea what he should do. He was startled when his doorbell rang, an impatient staccato of someone pressing it repeatedly. 

He opened the door, and Eggsy pushed past him into the hallway without looking at him. With his back turned to Harry he said “I know you fucking hate being in a chair, but guess what? I didn't fucking put you there. And I know you like to think that everyone who has to help you is secretly thinking the whole time how lucky they are to be able to stand and walk and do all those things you can't, but you're wrong. I don't see you as a victim, I just see you as a bully, and I think you blame your behaviour on being a cripple, but it's because you are an entitled cunt who thinks he is better than everyone else, and that is just one of the many things you are wrong about. See Harry, I might not be rich, or have an education, or be a good carer, but I am a person, and you had no fucking right to treat me like this.” There was hurt in his voice, but also an angry kind of pride. He turned to look at Harry. “So fuck you. But I'm not going to prove you right by leaving you here, so I'm gonna help you upstairs, and then I'm going to continue to be here until you've found someone else, because despite not being fucking qualified to do this, it's not in my character to leave someone behind.” He set his jaw and looked at Harry defiantly. 

“Eggsy, I-” 

“No. Don't fucking speak. Don't you dare. Just move your fucking chair to the stairs.” Eggsy went into the living room and picked up the key. Then he watched as Harry did as he was told. There was no need for Eggsy to move the chair upstairs, since he hadn't bothered putting it back in Harry's bedroom. 

****

Harry's arms trembled more than usually as he dragged himself up the stairs, and more than once he was afraid he'd fall, but all this time he heard Eggsy's footsteps closely behind him, and he knew the young man had meant it: he wouldn't stop being of help just because Harry was a dick. When he reached the top of the stairs, Eggsy walked past him, put his arm around him and hauled him into his chair. Then he turned around and walked down, with heavy steps. Harry had to say something, and say it now, or it would never be okay again.

“Eggsy! I meant that I chose you because I wanted to let Merlin know once and for all that I didn't give a shit who helped me, since I hated every single one of you. And I knew he would think you the worst candidate, since there is no denying that you were. I'm sorry, but that's the way it is. And you know what? You are right. I hate being in the chair! And I hate everything that it means! But I should not have said these things, because I didn't mean them the way they came across. And for what it's worth, Merlin actually approved of you! He looked really fucking smug when I chose you, as if he was secretly glad.” He had a lump in his throat and had to stop talking for a moment. 

Eggsy had stopped walking halfway down the stairs, but still stood with his back to Harry. 

“I don't know why, but it's true. I guess he thought I would regret my decision, and he was happy about that, so I would find out that you are not all the same, but… Eggsy, I don't regret my decision.” As he said the words, he knew them to be true. “You are not like the others, you lack the experience, and the manners, and everything one would usually look for in a carer, but that's good! I'm sick and tired of people to whom I'm patient number 17, people who call me Mr Hart and do not dare to speak up because they think that would be rude. People treat me differently since I'm disabled, and you are the first person to not treat me like I'm made of glass.” He took a shaky breath. “I can't make this decision for you, but I'm begging you to please think of this as a stupid mistake from an old, bitter fool, and nothing more. If you want to leave, that's your choice, but please… please stay.” 

Eggsy didn't turn around to look at him. After a few seconds of tense silence, he nodded, and continued down the stairs. “I'll see you at eight tomorrow, Mr Hart. And I'll make good on my promise: I won't leave you without replacement, no matter what my choice will be.” 

“Thank you, Eggsy.” Harry said softly, but Eggsy had already closed the front door behind himself. 

Once he was alone in his bedroom, Harry started crying, and he felt like he would never stop.


	3. Chapter 3

The awkwardness was almost tangible. Eggsy didn't say a word when he knocked on Harry's bedroom door and helped him down. He didn't ask what Harry wanted for breakfast, he didn't comment on how exhausted Harry looked, and he sure as hell didn't mention the previous day. He simply made some breakfast, not caring if Harry would like it, took his own plate upstairs and ate in Harry's office, looking at the stupid papers on the wall. Then he went downstairs, grabbed Harry's empty plate and did the dishes, and took some cleaning supplies upstairs, even thought there simply was nothing that needed cleaning. He needed to be away from Harry. 

****

Harry felt like he would never be okay again. Even though just one week ago he would have thought he couldn't possibly be more unhappy than he already was, he knew now that it could always be worse. It was torture, Eggsy not talking to him. Harry tried to get a conversation going, but had his attempts shut down with simple 'yes' or 'no' answers. Sometimes they were simply ignored. Eggsy made lunch without asking if Harry wanted any, and Harry ate it, feeling more and more miserable. The same thing happened with dinner. He wasn't really hungry, or rather, his guilt and worry made it impossible to eat, so he just poked at his food with his fork. To his despair, he noticed that his grip on his cutlery was weaker than it should be. He tried not to think about that. “Eggsy?” he tried eventually. 

Eggsy didn't look up, but he had sat down at the table this time, which Harry saw as a small victory. 

“Have you made your mind up yet?” 

“'bout what?” Eggsy mumbled. He had looked tired and annoyed all day, probably feeling more like Harry than he ever would. 

“About whether you stay or not?” 

Eggsy didn't answer for a long time. Then he said “I'm used to it, you know. People like you looking down on people like me.” 

Harry kept quiet, afraid that a comment from his side could make Eggsy retreat to silence again. 

Eggsy still didn't look at Harry when he spoke again. “When I was twelve, there was a kind of quiz for schools, a bit like university challenge, but for people my age. It was just between a couple of schools, and every school could send two people. I was one of the boys who were chosen for mine. And once we got there, it turned out that all of the other schools were really posh. And the subjects the questions were about, were subjects we hadn't studied yet at my school. When we were leaving, I asked a member of the winning team if they had done some kind of preparation for the quiz, and he said 'of course! We got a list of the subjects weeks ago'.” Eggsy shrugged. “All them posh schools had gotten such a list. Not us. My teacher found out later that we were only invited to join the quiz much later than the others, because they could get some kind of special funding for it by inviting a poor school.” 

“I'm sorry to hear that,” Harry said. He really was. 

“It's a long time ago. It doesn't matter now, does it? But I was really sad about it back then, not because we lost, but because we never really had had a chance. And it's just… who does that? To kids?” 

Harry wondered the same thing. 

“Anyway. You asked if I'd made my mind up. And I have. I'll stay, but it's because I need the money. And because I signed a contract and I'm pretty sure Merlin would kill me if I left. Seriously, that dude scares me.” He almost smiled, like he wasn't sure himself if it was a joke or not. 

Harry felt relieved. “Thank you, Eggsy. And again, I'm so sorry-” 

“Let's not talk about it again. I've forgiven you.” He didn't look at Harry, but nodded firmly as he said it. 

Harry smiled. “Thank you.” Eggsy was a much better man than Harry could ever hope to be, he was aware of that. And he admired it. 

“Tomorrow, when I come here, everything is okay, yeah? Water under the bridge and all that. And that's all we need to say about it.” 

Harry wasn't sure it really was that easy, but he was glad it was resolved, even a little bit. 

****

Harry wanted to go upstairs at eight. Eggsy was almost sure that he only said it so Eggsy could go home, and he was grateful for it. He had meant it though, that he had forgiven Harry. There was no use in holding on to a grudge, right? And judging by how terrible Harry had looked all day, it was clear he hadn't slept much that night, perhaps even less than Eggsy. 

Though that was nearly impossible.

****

The next day could not be more different from the day before. It was like overnight the air had cleared between them, and all dark clouds looming over them had disappeared. Eggsy certainly was determined to let it be 'water under the bridge'. He was his old cheerful self when he knocked on Harry's bedroom door and helped him down. Harry decided that if Eggsy could let it go, so could he. Not before long, they were back in their old ways of banter over breakfast. 

“Hey Harry, tell us a story, yeah?” Eggsy wiggled his eyebrows at Harry and winked. 

Harry tried to look annoyed, but smiled. He had missed this, he realised, the chitchatting, the storytelling. Most of all Eggsy's cheeky grin when he asked for it. “Can it wait until I've finished breakfast?” he asked. He needed time to make something up. Because despite things being okay between them, he wouldn't tell Eggsy the truth. Not yet. Perhaps never. He could tell a watered-down version of events eventually, but never all the details. They were classified. 

“Alriiight...” Eggsy said with a dramatic sigh. “But it does make your story less believable, you know. So better make it a good one.” 

“I'll try my best,” Harry said, and he almost winked, but could stop himself in time. 

Eggsy's phone buzzed. He pulled an 'oops'-face, took it out of his pocket, and read the message quickly. Then he put it back in his pocket. “Sorry about that. It's on silent now.” 

“I don't mind,” Harry said. “But who texts you at eight fifteen?” 

Eggsy chuckled. “It was Roxy. She was 'just checking' if I had been lying about starting this early. She finds it hard to believe, apparently.” 

It was the second time he had mentioned Roxy. The first time he said that she had dared him to learn to say the name of the Welsh village. Harry thought it was amusing that even Eggsy's girlfriend couldn't quite believe he'd be able to get up this early. 

“And she's asking if I want to go out this weekend.” Eggsy sighed. 

Harry frowned, and said in his most surprised tone “What's a weekend?” 

Eggsy looked at him with wide open eyes for a moment. Then he laughed loudly, with his eyes shut and his head thrown back. It was so sudden and genuine that Harry couldn't stop himself from laughing along. “Did you just quote the grandma from Downton Abbey?” Eggsy asked, still laughing. 

Harry had indeed, and he was surprised Eggsy knew that. “You watch Downton Abbey?” he asked in disbelief. 

Eggsy rolled his eyes. “Not really. My mum does. And I can only stomach looking at aristocrats if they're hot. So I have watched one full episode, and after that only some scenes now and then. Why?” 

“It just surprised me,” Harry said with a grin.

“Hold on. Am I like your valet? Or a… what are they called? Footman?” Eggsy pulled a disgusted face.

Harry shook his head. “A valet would mean you help me get dressed, so you're not that. And footmen don't cook and clean I think. You're more like a housekeeper I guess.” 

“I'm Mrs Patmore?” Eggsy asked, looking like he would never get over that news. "And Mrs Hughes?"

“I thought you had only seen some scenes now and then.” Harry said, smirking. 

Eggsy rolled his eyes. “Don't judge me. Back to our original topic: I don't have a weekend, do I?” 

“Not really, no.” Harry said apologetically. “If you want a day off, you have to let me or Merlin know as much in advance as possible. It is in the contract… didn't you read it?” 

“I kinda skimmed it, I guess. But it doesn't matter. Annoying you is much more fun than getting drunk anyway.” He picked up the used plates, and went into the kitchen. Two seconds later he was back, with a shocked expression on his face “HARRY! THE DENTIST?” 

“What? The d- OH FUCK!” 

“YEAH! FUCK!” Eggsy agreed, and took two steps towards Harry, turned around, and took two steps back towards the kitchen, only to turn around again, all of this with his hands lifted as if he was about to pick something up. He looked utterly lost. “WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO?” he screamed. 

Harry felt like an idiot. He had known about the appointment for weeks. It was right there, on one of Merlin's laminated planners. And Harry, the idiot, had completely forgotten about it. 

“It's at nine, isn't it?” he said, trying to keep his cool. 

Eggsy nodded, pulling at his hair and chewing his lip, the epitome of stressed. “How do we get there?” 

“With the van-” 

“WHICH BLOODY VAN?” 

Eggsy's distress was rather comical, now the first shock was gone. “I have a special van for the chair. It is in storage. First of all, relax. We can go pick up the van, then you drive me to the dentist. We can still make it.” Though they probably wouldn't. It didn't matter. Harry had never liked his dentist, and he knew that even that horrible man wouldn't turn them away if they lied and said there had been trouble with the wheelchair. 

“Where?” Eggsy asked. He was starting to calm down. 

“First things first. Could you get my my toothbrush from upstairs? I'm not going there with toast in my teeth.” 

He had barely finished his sentence when Eggsy had already run out of the door. Harry was just about to yell that he should be careful on the stairs when he heard “OH FUCK!” followed by the sound of Eggsy falling and sliding down the stairs. “I'M FINE!” Eggsy yelled, and a second later the footsteps were back, not at all slower than before. 

Harry stiffled a relieved laugh. Eggsy turned out to be quite resilient. Nothing could keep him down. Harry wished Eggsy could teach him how to live like that. 

****

“That thing is pretty fast,” Eggsy said, jogging next to Harry with the keys to the van in his hand. 

“Mmmh,”

“Is that even legal?” 

Mmmmh,” 

Eggsy laughed, keeping up with the wheelchair which was definitely going faster than it should be able to. He liked these little cracks in Harry Hart's gentlemanly façade. He swore – quite a lot-, he owned a wheelchair that was probably not street-legal, had a mysterious room in his house, and he had an actual dead dog in his bathroom. He was getting more interesting by the day. 

Once they reached the place where Harry's van was in storage, they had just under thirty minutes left to get to the dentist, which was -according to Harry- a forty-five minute drive. Eggsy unlocked the garage-like storage unit, to find a white van. “This looks like it has definitely been used to kidnap someone,” he said. “So, how do we do this?” 

Harry narrowed his eyes at him. “Eggsy...” he said, like he was dreading the answer. “Do you have a drivers license?” 

Eggsy did his best not to grin. “Let's say I do.” 

Harry inhaled deeply, and exhaled slowly. “Okay...” he said weakly. “Let's do that.” He cleared his throat. “You reverse out first… and if you survive that, you can open the back door, fold the ramp out, and I'll be able to drive in there. Then you have so secure the chair, and try not to kill us.” 

“Right. Sounds manageable.” Eggsy said. He got into the van, while Harry moved out of the way, and drove backwards out of the narrow storage unit. He stopped, got out, closed the door of the garage and then opened the backdoor of the van. He pulled the ring on the floor of the van up, pulling the ramp out onto the ground, and stood back while Harry carefully drove in. Then he put the ramp back, jumped in, and followed Harry's instructions for all the belts and other things he had to put through all kinds of loops to secure the chair. “Ready?” he asked. 

“As ready as ever,” Harry mumbled. 

“Right!” Eggsy said. “Roadtrip! Let's go!” 

****

“Sorry, I'm not used to this.” Eggsy said cheerfully, weaving through traffic.

“Driving a van?” Harry asked from the back.

“Speed limits,” he said casually, honking at someone. 

“How come, since you obviously didn't grow up in Germany?” Harry asked. 

Eggsy grinned widely. “I like to think of speed limits as suggestions rather than rules.” He took a turn, and heard something shift in the back. “Did your chair just move?” He looked in the rear-view mirror, but Harry still seemed to be in place. 

“I think some screw just came off at the door.” Harry replied.

“Mmh. Could not have been an important one then.” Eggsy said with a shrug.

“I'm not sure I agree with your logic.” Harry said. He sounded rather weak. 

“Are you gonna puke, Harry? Cause if you do, I'd prefer if you opened a window and puked all over that Mercedes that's driving behind us.” Eggsy said. He was enjoying this. 

“I'll try to aim,” Harry said. He had closed his eyes and looked a bit pale. 

Eggsy glanced at his watch. “Hey Harry? I think we might just make it!” 

Harry opened his eyes for a moment, closing them immediately again. “I'm not sure if that makes me happy or afraid.” 

“Don't worry, Harry! Nothing's gonna happen!” Eggsy glanced at his watch again. They were almost there. Two minutes later, he came to a stop, tires screeching and all, and jumped out of the van to untie Harry, who looked like he was thanking every God that he was still alive. 

As Harry drove off the ramp backwards, he mumbled “I've underestimated your driving skills… or overestimated? I'm not sure. Thanks.” 

“You're welcome Harry. It was quite fun to drive a manual for the first time.” Harry's shocked expression made Eggsy laugh harder than he had ever laughed before.

****

There was nothing wrong with Harry's teeth. “Psssh, I could've told you that! You have a Michael Fassbender kind of grin!” Eggsy said disdainfully, while checking the last belt.

“Thanks?” Harry said. He was still a bit shocked that they had not only survived Eggsy's driving, they had also been on time. “Could you drive a bit slower on the way back? If you don't, I might still lose the contents of my stomach.” 

Eggsy started the engine and grinned at Harry in the mirror. “Sure thing, bruv. I'm impressed you can even make vomiting sound eloquent. Impressed, but not surprised.” 

Harry raised his eyebrows. “I'll take that as a compliment.” 

“I must have said it wrong,” Eggsy said, and winked.

Harry shook his head in exasperation. “And you say you've only seen bits and pieces of Downton Abbey.” This little exchange had been lifted from Downton directly.

Eggsy laughed. “I might have watched a compilation of the grandmother's best lines. Who doesn't love McGonagall, right?” 

Harry rolled his eyes. It was a weird thing to realise, but having Eggsy around cheered him up. 

Once they almost arrived back at the storage units, they ran into a problem. The road was blocked, and there was a sign that said “Road work ahead”. 

“You've got to be shitting me,” Eggsy groaned. “Harry, we can't return the van.” There were no possible detours, since the storage units were located on a dead end. “What are we gonna do now? Find a bloody parking spot for three million pounds a day?” He turned the car around. “I'll drop you off at home, and then try to figure this out.” Of all days they could be working on that particular road, it had to be today? Bloody ridiculous.

“It will be fine,” Harry said, but he didn't sound too sure.

Eggsy slowly drove into Harry's street, when Harry suddenly said “You can park in my garden.” 

Eggsy gave him an unimpressed look in the mirror. “There is a picket fence, Harry. Has the dentist drilled into your brain?” 

“Will a lousy fence stop you?” Harry asked, raising one eyebrow. 

Fine. If that's what he wanted. Eggsy felt like the hero in an action film who drives through walls to do what he has to do, when he stepped on the gas and ran the fence over with a splintery, loud noise, and came to a stop in the middle of the grass. 

Harry started laughing, a loud free laugh, of the kind Eggsy had never heard from him. It seemed to surprise Harry as well, because he habitually lifted his hand to hide his grin, but then just laughed again. “That was a joke,” he said, looking at Eggsy with the biggest grin. “I didn't think you'd actually do it.” 

“Oops,” Eggsy said, grinning widely, in a tone that made it clear he didn't care at all. “I hope you weren't too attached to the picket fence.” 

Harry shook his head. “Merlin will have a fit.” 

“Why cares about Merlin? It's not his fucking fence I just destroyed.” Eggsy said cheerfully, looking out of the window at the broken pieces of wood next to the tires. 

“That's not what I meant,” Harry said. “I don't mind it, I just really, really want to see his face when he finds out about this.” 

Eggsy laughed. “Then let's make sure he does find out.” 

****

The dentist-adventure had left both of them in a chipper mood, and the lame jokes and banter just kept coming. It was so easy to talk to one another and joke with one another, that neither of them really understood why yesterday had been such a terrible day. Harry's whole face hurt from laughing so much, when he finally looked at the clock and exclaimed in surprise that it was time for supper. 

“Oh, fuck!” Eggsy groaned. “Bruv, d'you mind if we order something?” 

“Not at all!” Harry actually rather liked the idea. “I have looots of take-out menus in a drawer.” 

“I know,” Eggsy said cheekily and got up to retrieve them. 

An hour later, they were -as Eggsy called it- 'stuffing their faces' with Indian food. He had also ran to the shops to buy some beer, which they were going through in a rather fast pace. 

“If I keep eating I'm gonna die...” Eggsy said, shoving another bite in his mouth. “But it would be the best way to go, wouldn't it?” 

Harry yawned and nodded. “It would,” he agreed. “They could put it on your stone. 'Here lies Eggsy. He died doing what he loved. Stuffing his face.' It sounds nice.” 

Eggsy rolled his eyes. 

“Where does the name 'Eggsy' come from, by the way?” Harry asked. He had wondered for quite some time. 

Eggsy shrugged. “Because I was born on Easter. And I called eggs 'eggsies'. I kinda talked like Gollum, I guess. Anyway, my mum started calling me that, and it kinda stuck. I never really liked my real name anyway, so it was actually quite… See, my mum and dad had decided to call me Gary, and after my dad died, my mum and I decided to call me Eggsy. It's nice. Like it is the first major decision we've made, just the two of us.” 

That was not at all what Harry had expected. He had thought it would be some joke his friends made that stuck, or some other stupid reason. But the reality was rather sweet. “That's nice,” he said. “The name suits you, for some reason.” 

Eggsy smiled, looking a bit shy suddenly. “Yeah, I guess.” 

The subject seemed to make him uncomfortable -probably because it mentioned his dad- so Harry changed the subject. “The amount of food I've eaten would make Merlin proud.” he joked. 

Eggsy finished his beer and opened another one. If the change of subject was obvious, he didn't mention it. It seemed to remind him of something though. “How did Merlin know my last name?”

The question was so sudden, that Harry didn't know how to respond for a moment. Then he regained his composure, and said “He works in IT.” He took a sip of his beer, noticing once again that his grip had weakened. Maybe it was partly the alcohol, he tried to tell himself. He knew it wasn't. It was the time of year. 

“IT,” Eggsy repeated, nodding slowly. “How do you know him?” 

“Work,” Harry said simply.

“Work? Were you in IT?” His raised eyebrow was a clear indication he didn't believe it.

“No, I was a tailor.” 

“A tailor?” Eggsy asked in disbelief, as if he had never heard something so stupid. “You were sewing and shit? Making suits for toffs?” 

Harry chuckled. “Yes. I was 'making suits for toffs'. Does that surprise you?” 

Eggsy was still looking at Harry with a frown. “It does! A tailor? How the hell did you meet Merlin the IT-guy if you were a tailor?” 

“Even tailors have websites,” Harry said, quite proud of himself for thinking of this save on the spot. 

“I guess they do.” Eggsy said. He narrowed his eyes, as if reading something on Harry's face. It almost looked like he was trying to bust him for a lie. But then he grinned. “Do you mind that Merlin is totally a white-hat hacker for the government? 'Cause that man doesn't just fix websites. You can see it in his face. That dude has secrets, calling it now.” 

_Gary “Eggsy” Unwin_ , Harry thought. _Aren't you quite observant._

****

Something Harry was telling him wasn't true. Eggsy knew it, though he wasn't sure what gave it away. 

“That dude has secrets, calling it now.” he said. 

Harry just grinned at him, a silent acknowledgement perhaps. This guy just got more and more interesting, the mystery surrounding him more layered and clouded. It was not just the wheelchair, it was why he knew Merlin, why he hired Eggsy of all people, why he insisted on living in the least wheelchair friendly house there was. How does a tailor get injured? None of the stories so far had even mentioned his profession. Maybe that was because the stories were made up, though don't they always say 'write what you know?'. Or the profession was a lie, but why would Harry do that? If you were to make up a job, you made it something cool, right? Fire-fighter, cop, secret agent. Stunt man. Lion tamer. Anything but 'tailor'. 

Eggsy was getting more curious by the day, but he would play along with their game. He was the one who had mad it up, wasn't he? “Want another beer, Harry?” 

It looked like Harry wanted to object, but then he grinned and said “Why not?” 

Eggsy opened it for him and slid it over the table. He had noticed that Harry seemed to have lost strength in his fingers, and while he didn't want to ask about it, he didn't want Harry to feel awkward or helpless, so he had opened all beers for him as if he always did that for others. 

The alcohol also made Harry's cheerfulness different from before. There always seemed to be some kind of concern on Harry's mind even if he was happy, some dark place he could go to at any moment. But now, that place seemed farther away. “Eggsy, if you want something stronger, there is whiskey in the little cabinet over there.” he pointed at a potted plant, which was standing on a log of wood. Or so it seemed.

“That is so fucking awesome!” Eggsy said, crouching down at the 'log' where, from up close, he could see a small handle. He pulled it, revealing several bottles of whiskey and other hard liquor. “Want some as well, Harry?” 

Harry shrugged. “Don't mind if I do.” 

“It's Friday night. We are allowed to get trashed, right? And this time I can get smashed without having to say Welsh names first.” He returned with two bottles, and went to the kitchen to get glasses. “One warning though,” he said, pouring them both a generous amount of whiskey. “I'm not used to this kind of stuff. Roxy always makes me drink cocktails, and God knows what's in those.” 

Harry sniffed his glass, and smiled satisfied. “The good stuff,” he said as a toast. 

“The good life!” Eggsy replied, clinking their glasses. “Cheers.” 

“Aaaah,” Harry sighed after his first sip. 

“Jesus fucking christ, that shit is disgusting!” Eggsy said, pretending to vomit, before taking another big gulp. “I'm going to get Roxy to try this next time.” He shuddered, which made Harry laugh. Eggsy grinned at him, and thought he saw a small twinkle in his eyes, a little sign that he knew what was coming before he even said it. “So, bruv. Tell us a story.” 

Harry rolled his eyes, took another sip of his scotch, and started talking. “It was the fifth of November. I remember that, because one of my co-workers kept making jokes about Guy Fawkes. We were in Thailand, at a textile factory. Two colleagues of mine and I were sent there for a quality check of the new fabrics we were going to work with next season. The location is actually not that important, it could have happened anywhere. See, most people think that being in a wheelchair is always either due to some birth defect, or due to an accident, but the reality is much less… exciting, if you will.” He looked almost apologetic when he said it. “In my case, it was due to a clot in the blood vessel supplying the spinal cord.” 

Eggsy didn't say anything. 

Harry looked at him and shrugged. “I'm sorry it isn't very exciting. You probably had it built up in your head to be this big secret, but that is the reason. A blood clot.” 

It was a plausible explanation. 

And yet Eggsy was convinced it was not the truth. 

****

After his story, Eggsy had not said anything, no indication at all of whether he believed it or not. He just looked at Harry for a while, probably making his mind up, and then he simply changed the subject. They talked about films for a while, confirming that their taste in films couldn't be more different, and Eggsy admitted that the film-questions were the only ones he always knew when watching Pointless on TV. (“I watched it as a drinking game once with my mates, drinking every time the host said 'indeed'. Jamal had to get his stomach pumped after that.”). Harry said he owned the complete boxset of Bondfilms, but had only seen one, though he didn't remember the title of it (“But Bond sleeps with a blonde women who once dated the bad guy” “Wow, Harry. You really don't know much about Bond, do you?”) and Eggsy decided this meant they had to marathon all the films in the near future (“If we don't, the Queen might actually kick you out of England”). Harry accidentally agreed to a marathon, and reminded himself to never mention he hadn't seen the Harry Potter films either. 

Harry hadn't really drunk that much in a long time, and he could tell that Eggsy hadn't been kidding when he said he wasn't used to this stuff. Still -or because of that- talking was easy, the uncomfortable silence of the day before and the cause of it were forgotten completely. “We should go out more. Out of the house. Go to a pub or something.” Eggsy said. He tried balancing his empty glass on its side, but didn't succeed.

“A pub?” Some years ago, Harry would have liked the sound of that, but not any more. “It's a bit difficult in the wheelchair,” he said evasively. 

“Really?” Eggsy said, sounding genuinely surprised. “Aren't there rules or something, that everything needs to be accessory. Acceptable. Jesus. Accessible? Is that even a word? Accessible?” he repeated the word a couple of times. “Ac-sess-i-bol”. 

“There are. But that doesn't mean that every pub complies with those guidelines.” And most pavements had more craters in them than the moon, many people didn't mind blocking the pavement with their cars, or garbage, or low hanging branches, pub owners sometimes looked unsure when they saw him, as if they weren't sure he was allowed to drink in his condition, and drunk people tented to ask him invasive questions, or try to hitch a ride on his chair. 

“Huh. What a bunch of dicks.” Eggsy yawned. It had gotten late without any of them really noticing. “I'm serious though, we should do something fun. What would you like to do? What are your hobbies?” 

He didn't really have hobbies, not anymore. But he knew it sounded sad if he said that. “I like to read,” he said. “And watch films.” It was pretty much all he could still do, wasn't it?

Eggsy rolled his eyes. “Of course you do. But what other things? You could play wheelchair basketball. Or… I don't know. There must be lots of things you can do.” 

Of course there were plenty of opportunities. Harry just didn't feel like trying them. His life had been so full before, with so many adventures and thrills, that everything paled in comparison. Obviously, he couldn't tell Eggsy that. “Yeah,” he said softly, hoping Eggsy would drop the subject. It was almost two in the morning, and Eggsy's yawns followed one another in rapid succession. “Time to go to bed, I think.” Harry said. He was tired, but for the first time in ages it was due to staying up late by choice, not by laying in bed, worrying about all kinds of things. It felt rather nice. “I have really enjoyed this.” It shouldn't come as a surprise to him that he really meant it, but it did. Eggsy had a way of defying his expectations, and Harry should have known he would enjoy himself despite being… well… himself. 

Eggsy grinned proudly, his eyes lit up when he did. “Really? Me too!” He yawned again. “Sorry.” He stood up, jumped up and down a few times, and shook his arms and legs, like an athlete doing a warming-up. “Time to get you up the stairs. I hope you have a higher tolerance for this stuff than me, because I think the window just winked at me.” 

Harry laughed. “I hope so too, because the stairs are hard enough when they aren't moving.” 

“Like in Harry Potter!” Eggsy said enthusiastically, and Harry had to talk over it quickly before Eggsy would ask him if he had seen the films, and he would be forced into another marathon. 

“Could you close the bottles? Just leave them here, we can tidy up tomorrow.” 

Eggsy did, and then he walked up the stairs to get the wheelchair from Harry's bedroom. He had hoovered upstairs, so this time he had put the wheelchair back into the room. Harry liked that Eggsy had put it so close to the door that he didn't actually have to go in. Eggsy positioned it at the top of the stairs, put the brake on, and went down again. It was funny how all these things had become routine to him already. “There we go, bruv. If we both break our neck today, how long is it before we're found? Because I'd like to look pretty going in my casket.” 

Harry could barely stop himself from making a comment about Eggsy's prettiness (he wasn't sure what exactly he would have said, just that it would be inappropriate), and said “Merlin's back in a few days. But I think a neighbour would come knocking before that to complain about the van in the garden and the broken picket fence.” 

Eggsy laughed loudly, and Harry realised he loved the sound of it. “Dude! I totally forgot about the bloody fence!” Eggsy shook his head. “I'll fix it a bit tomorrow, yeah? Or tear it out completely, whatever you like.” 

Harry grabbed onto the railing and pushed himself up. He took some time to steady his grip somewhat, but it still didn't feel very safe. 

Eggsy seemed to sense it, because he squeezed past Harry so he was standing on a higher stair and said “Now I'm as tall as you. Put your right arm around my shoulders, I'll hold onto the railing with one hand and onto you with the other.” 

He said it casually, not as if there was something seriously wrong – which there was. Harry was grateful for it, even if he knew they would have to talk about this soon regardless. Harry let go with his right hand and swung it over Eggsy's shoulders. He felt the young man's muscles under his fingertips, and was surprised at how strong he seemed. 

Eggsy put his left arm around Harry's chest, the way he always did at the very end of their stair-climbing-adventure, and carefully stepped onto the next stair, pulling Harry with him. He paused at every step, so Harry had time to steady himself and to move his hand up the railing. It took a while, but eventually they reached the top. Getting Harry into the chair was a bit more difficult than usually, because of Harry's arm around Eggsy's shoulders, but he didn't dare let go, and Eggsy didn't comment on it either. “It's like climbing Everest,” Harry mumbled, relieved to be sitting again. 

Eggsy chuckled, took the brake off, and pushed Harry's chair towards the bathroom. 

He had never done that before (it had never been necessary), and while Harry was sure he would have managed -even while slightly drunk- it didn't offend him. It was just like Eggsy opening the beers for him, little acts that he seemingly didn't even think about, but that made life easier for Harry right now. 

“Everest doesn't move in waves, does it? 'Cause yer stairs did.” Eggsy leaned forward, over Harry's shoulder, to open the bathroom door, then he said “If I were you, I would have taken a demolition hammer to this wall a long time ago.” He gestured at the wall between the bathroom and the bedroom. 

Harry put his hands on the wheels and rolled to the sink, where he grabbed his toothbrush. “It's a load-bearing wall, unfortunately.” 

Eggsy waited with his eyes closed while Harry brushed his teeth. It looked as though he might fall asleep right there. His eyes flung open when Harry said “done,” and he pushed the chair to the bedroom. After opening the door, he said “Are you gonna be able to get into bed, or will your drunk mind underestimate the distance?” 

It wasn't the distance Harry was worried about, but he said “It might be best if you wait here until I'm in bed, yes.” He put his hands on the wheels and rolled the two meters to the bed, then he pulled himself up at the plastic handle on the wall, turned his body, and let himself fall onto the bed. It took more effort than it usually did, but he had made it. 

Eggsy was watching from the doorway. He had never put foot in the bedroom, Harry knew that. “Is there anything else I can do?” he asked.

Harry looked at the clock on the wall. “Oh shit. Can you still get home at this hour?” 

Eggsy's eyes widened, and he stared at the clock for a rather long time, as if his brain couldn't compute what the positions of the arms meant. “Uuhhm… probably not. Well, if I walk to the… and then...” he was partially thinking out loud, looking at the clock and tapping his fingers on his nose. “I'll walk to Roxy's. Her place isn't that far from here.” 

He emphasised 'that', which Harry took to mean that it WAS far away. He tried to unbutton his top button, just to be sure he could, but his hands wouldn't do what he wanted. 

Eggsy noticed, of course he did. “I'm glad I'm not wearing any buttons,” he chuckled, “shall I?” he waited until Harry nodded, then toed off his shoes, stepped into the bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed. He unbuttoned Harry's shirt, not showing any sign of thinking it was weird, and then got up again.

Harry was glad he wore a shirt underneath it. “Thank you,” he said. He'd be sleeping in his trousers tonight. THAT was one thing he wouldn't let Eggsy do. “Are you sure you can make it to Roxy's at this hour? You can sleep on the couch if you want.” 

Eggsy's eyes kept closing on their own accord, which didn't bode well for a long walk. “I'll text her,” he said, “see if she's even at home.” 

Harry started yawning too. He pulled the duvet over his legs, scooted a bit to the side, and propped his pillow up behind his back, so he could sit against the headboard. “Sit down,” he said. He was afraid that Eggsy would simply topple over if he kept standing. 

Eggsy did. He sat the way Harry did, with his back against the headboard and his legs on the mattress. He was wearing what looked like women's socks: they were black with small white dots. “Thaaaaanks,” he yawned. He texted Roxy, and just before the screen went black again, Harry saw a glimpse of Eggsy's screen picture: a very pretty girl with her arms around Eggsy, who was pulling a mildly disgusted face at her. Eggsy's girlfriend was beautiful. Harry wouldn't have expected any less. 

“Is it okay if I wait here until she texts back?” Eggsy asked. 

“Of course!” Harry said. He didn't want the night to end. Eggsy could stay as long as he wanted. 

“Thanks,” Eggsy got up and switched off the lamp. “In case I fall asleep.” he mumbled. Then he sat down again and closed his eyes. 

Harry started nodding off surprisingly fast, but he tried to stay awake so he would know if Eggsy could go to his girlfriends house, or would stay here on the couch. He woke up a couple of times, not knowing how much time had passed between every time. Eventually, he heard a soft buzzing sound coming from Eggsy's phone, and the screen lit up for a second. Eggsy didn't notice. He had fallen asleep. “Eggsy?” Harry said softly. 

Eggsy didn't wake. 

In the darkness, Harry could just make out his features, looking peaceful and calm. Harry decided not to wake him. He pushed himself towards the foot of the bed a bit more, and laid his pillow down flat, so he could lie instead of sit. Eggsy's back would probably hurt once he woke up, but it was better than walking somewhere in the rain, wasn't it? Harry yawned, and put the duvet over Eggsy as well. Within minutes, he was asleep again.


	4. Chapter 4

Eggsy woke with a crick in his neck. He startled when he realised where he was. The movement woke Harry, who yawned and opened his eyes slowly. “Morning, Eggsy.” he said with a grin.

“Oh fuck.” Eggsy said. He smiled apologetically and then yawned loudly. “Good morning. I'm so sorry.” 

Harry pushed himself upright. His hair was all messed up. He reached for his glasses on the night-stand and put them on. “It's okay. I decided not to wake you. It seemed like an impossible task as well.” 

Eggsy laughed, which was interrupted by a yawn. “You're right about that.” He looked at his phone. Roxy had texted him around three at night that she had only seen his text now, and that she would be home in half an hour. “Roxy wasn't home, so thank you for offering your couch, and sorry I slept in your bed.” 

Harry rolled his eyes. “I'm scandalised.” 

Eggsy laughed, though he felt pretty embarrassed about this. It was unprofessional. Also, it should probably feel weirder than it did. Suddenly he had a brilliant idea. “Do you want breakfast in bed?” 

“Sure. Why not.” Harry looked amused.

Eggsy jumped out of bed and stretched his arms over his head. “Be right back.” 

Fifteen minutes later, they were both sitting up in bed, with a tray on their lap. 

“This feels like we are on honeymoon,” Eggsy said, and then, without so much as a pause between words, “please forget I said that.” 

Harry laughed, which made him inhale some crumbs. He coughed into his elbow. 

Eggsy wondered if there was anything Harry couldn't made classy. “Did you want me to rip out that picket fence?” he asked, changing the subject before it had a chance to get weird. 

“Sounds good. You can run it over again, maybe that's all you need to do.” 

“Don't even joke about that, Harry, cause I totally will,” Eggsy warned him.

“Who said I was kidding?” Harry asked with a mischievous grin. 

****

Harry's good mood disappeared a few minutes later when he managed to haul himself into his wheelchair with great difficulty, and found out his hands didn't quite cooperate anymore. It looked like they would have this conversation earlier than he had planned or hoped. He cleared his throat, dreading having to speak about this. “Did Merlin tell you that I'm sometimes not able to use my hands very well?” He knew Merlin had told Eggsy that, but by asking this, it felt more detached from himself somehow, which made talking about it easier. 

“He has,” Eggsy said. 

“Well, it's that time of year again. I'm sorry that this is rather awkward, but I don't think I'll be able to unbutton my trousers.” 

Eggsy looked alarmed for a second, but then he simply asked “The fly as well?” and leaned down to open the button. He did it carefully but quickly, never touching Harry.

“No, I think that will be fine,” Harry hated feeling like this, that he needed help with things even a three year old could do. Especially from a young man like Eggsy. But he had already slept in his clothes one night, and was yearning for a shower. “Could you wait outside the bathroom, in case...” In case he fell. Or didn't manage to take off his trousers. 

“Of course.” Eggsy opened the bedroom door. “'That time of year',” he quoted. “Does it have to do with the weather?” 

“Something like that.” It wasn't the weather. It was the date. The date of The Worst Day of his life, barely two months before his accident, which was approaching fast. But he didn't tell Eggsy that. He didn't plan on speaking of it, ever. Not even to Eggsy. He took some clothes from his closet, put them on his lap, and went to the bathroom, hoping that he wouldn't need Eggsy's help.

****

Eggsy leaned against the bathroom door, waiting for Harry. The sound of running water had stopped some time ago, and Eggsy was getting a bit anxious that something had happened. He told himself it simply seemed a long time because he was waiting, and that he would have heard it if Harry had fallen. Still, he was both relieved and alarmed when Harry said “Eggsy? Could you come in for a moment?” 

Harry was sitting in his wheelchair in front of the sink. He was wearing a white T-shirt, and had a navy blue shirt in his hands. “These buttons will be the death of me,” he said, forcing a smile. “And the button of my trousers as well.” He turned the chair a bit, so he was facing Eggsy.

“Hey Harry? I think this means I am your valet now.” Eggsy knelt down on one knee, very aware of their close proximity, and lifted Harry's shirt a bit to reach the button of his trousers. From this close, the white T-shirt was transparent enough to see the faded, pale scars on his skin, like stab wounds. Eggsy buttoned up his trousers, and straightened. “A tailor, huh? Did you fall into your scissors?” 

“It happens,” Harry said. 

The casualness of his comment annoyed Eggsy, even though he knew he had no right to feel that way. While it was justified in their little guessing-game, he found it harder to bear that Harry lied about his job as well, especially since the lie was so obvious. He was starting to think that Harry would never tell him what had happened, and he was angry about that, but he didn't let it show.   
It was simply a joke, nothing malicious about that. And Harry had a right to privacy, he didn't owe Eggsy anything. Eggsy shook off his annoyance, and said “My sister has these glittery-blue safety-scissors. I'm sure she'd let you borrow them if you ask nicely.” 

Harry didn't respond. He was looking at himself in the mirror, and it was obvious he didn't like what he saw. He realised Eggsy was looking at him, and forced a smile. “Sorry, I'm just tired.” He held the shirt out to Eggsy, who took it, and held it in such a way that Harry could put his arms through it. Then he buttoned up the shirt. 

“Could you go to the store today and pick up a straight razor?” Harry asked. “Shaving with these ones is a disaster, now that I don't have much strength in my hands.” 

“Sure,” Eggsy said. He grinned. “But first, I have to destroy your reputation and piss off your neighbours.” 

Harry peered up. His bad mood disappeared immediately. “And I'm going to watch.” 

****

“Whooooo! Go Eggsy!” 

Eggsy was laughing his ass off in the drivers-seat, running over the fence again and again. Once it has sufficiently splintered, he got out, looked at the damage, and grinned at Harry, looking rather proud. “This is kind of a childhood dream. Legal vandalism. Fucking marvellous.” 

“God, I hated that fence.” Harry sighed. 

Eggsy almost asked why he hadn't just got rid of it before, but was afraid it might be a similar case as the spare room, some issue Harry didn't want to discuss. He picked up the larger pieces, and then used a broom to clean up the rest of the splinters. The lawn looked terrible, exactly the way you'd expect after driving on it with a heavy van. Eggsy proudly commented on the fact that the state of Harry's garden dragged down the poshness of the entire street. 

They went back inside, where Eggsy opened a beer for both of them, and said “I can't wait to tell Roxy about this.” 

“What is she like? Roxy?” Harry took a sip of his beer. 

“Oh man!” Eggsy exclaimed. He leaned forward a bit. “She's bloody awesome! Really pretty, in a Bond-girl kind of way. Seriously, incredibly hot. But smart. The body of a Bond-girl, the behaviour of James Bond himself, the brain of Q. She's like… she's all rolled into one!” He was gesticulating wildly while he said it, and only narrowly avoided hitting Harry in the face. He folded his hands in front of his stomach. “She could crush me like a twig if she wanted.” He laughed. Roxy could totally beat the shit out of him if she wanted. That was just all the more reason he liked her. 

“How long have you and Roxy been together?” Harry asked. 

Eggsy looked at in him in surprise, wondering what on earth he might have said that made it sound like he were dating Roxy. In hindsight, probably everything. “We're not,” he said with a grin. “Not for lack of trying though.” 

Harry raised an eyebrow, prompting him to go on. “I started hitting on her, and she was like 'aaaw. You're so cute. But you do know what kind of establishment this is, right?' So I said 'Well, that still gave me a fifty-fifty chance.' and she agreed with me and bought me a drink 'for my effort' and we've been friends ever since.” he laughed. “You can probably tell that Roxy is quite posh herself, since she said 'establishment' instead of just 'club' like any normal person.” 

There was something unreadable in Harry's eyes, and Eggsy hoped he hadn't offended him. “Not that there is anything wrong with being posh.” 

Harry made a dismissive gesture. “Fifty-fifty chance?” he inquired, looking puzzled. 

Eggsy laughed. “Yeah. As it turned out, our sexualities weren't entirely compatible. She was there with a girl.” Roxy had bored him with some explanation of the Kinsey scale once, an explanation that came down to her being a lesbian-leaning bisexual. Or something. Eggsy didn't give a shit about Kinsey, he just knew he wasn't bothered by a hot person's genitals. Unless the genitals were weird, of course. But he couldn't know that before going home with them. He shook his head to rid himself of his weird, still slightly drunken thoughts. 

“It was a gay club?” Harry asked. 

Eggsy nodded. 

Harry frowned, then opened his mouth in a surprised 'oh'. 

“Yeah,” Eggsy said. He realised he had just come out to his employer, but he didn't really care. Harry seemed surprised, but not offended, angry, disappointed or any other response Roxy had gotten from her posh parents. “I hope that doesn't shock you. And also, like, that we woke up together.” 

Harry just smiled. “That doesn't faze me in the slightest. How could it? I was married to a man.” 

Now it was Eggsy's turn to be surprised. All this time, he had just kind of assumed that Harry was straight. “You were?” he asked. The implications of the past tense dawned on him very slowly. “Did you get a divorce?” 

“No,” Harry said with a sad, tight smile. 

That broke Eggsy's heart. 

Harry's husband had died. Young. 

How? 

Why? 

A thought crossed his mind, and it made as much sense as it was horrible: that the reason Harry was paralysed was the same reason his husband had died. A car-accident, probably. 

How much more did Harry lose? How many more horrors had he been through? Eggsy wasn't sure he wanted to find out. 

“I'm sorry,” he said. 

Harry avoided looking him in the eyes. “Me too.” 

**** 

Harry didn't know why he had even mentioned it at all. He had never told previous carers about Percival, and only this morning he had sworn to himself to not even tell Eggsy. He was relieved that Eggsy didn't pry, and instead got up. 

“I'll return the van, yeah? And go to the store?” Eggsy went into the hall, took the keys of the van out of the delftware plate he had dropped them in, and left. 

Home alone, the silence was louder than it had ever been before. It was strange how fast Harry had gotten used to Eggsy's blabbering. And his own. He hadn't talked this much to any previous carer, and he sure as hell had never made conversation personal. In the beginning, he had had a picture of Percival on his night stand, but once people started asking him who he was, he had gotten used to putting the picture down every morning. Why had he brought up Percival himself this time? Thinking about him always filled him with unbearable sadness, and while Merlin said he should talk to a therapist about it, Harry refused to do so. What good would it do? It wouldn't bring Percy back. And that was the only thing that could fix this. That could fix him. 

For some reason, part of him was relieved that he had told Eggsy. It meant that he could leave the picture up in the future. It was a small consolation. 

****

Harry was in a bad mood when Eggsy returned. Eggsy knew it was because of what he had -accidentally perhaps- revealed earlier. It was heartbreaking. They ate lunch in silence, and after that, Harry put on a film, an English one this time. “The Prestige”. It was good, though Eggsy thought he would probably never see a film with a better ending than “Das Leben der Anderen.” 

Harry had told him he had lived in Germany. Maybe his husband was German, and that was the reason he'd lived there. Maybe his husband's death was the reason he had moved back to England. Eggsy felt bad about being so curious about everything. It filled him with guilt that Harry's personal tragedy intrigued him so much. 

Everyday he discovered new things about Harry Hart, new questions, and they never had a satisfying answer. He was still determined to find out, perhaps more than ever, even though he was almost certain that the real story would be worse than he had anticipated.

****

Over the next few days, Harry's mood kept swinging up and down without warning, from cheerful chatter to resentful silence, and there was nothing Eggsy could do about it. Harry's hands shook sometimes when holding cutlery, and Eggsy worried he would cut himself with the straight razors he had bought, but Harry looked properly shaven again, so what he'd said was actually true for once. It WAS easier to shave with those, even if they looked like one could kill a man with them.

Eggsy finally told his mum he had a job, and she was so proud of him she almost cried. Eggsy was embarrassed by her happiness, all too aware that it meant she had feared the worst for him, but he was also proud. He explained the wheelchair to Daisy as well as he could, and accidentally let it slip that Harry owned a dog, much to her excitement. He didn't have the heart to tell him Mr Pickle was actually dead. Well, she didn't have to find out about that. 

Harry's silence was driving him crazy, so he started bringing his iPod to work, and listened to music while cleaning and cooking. One day, he forgot it was garbage day, and had to run after the garbage truck with the bags in his arms, much to Harry's amusement. A few minutes later, Harry was back in his dark place again. 

Even though it was far from their usual behaviour, it was not mean-spirited on Harry's part at all, so instead of feeling angry about it, Eggsy just felt sorry for him. He couldn't even imagine what it must be like to lose the person you loved, and he was certain that 'the time of year' Harry had referred to, meant that the date of his accident and his husband's death was approaching. 

Eggsy hadn't asked about a story in the last few days, since Harry never seemed in the mood to talk. For a while, Eggsy thought it was best to never mention it again, since even making up a story must remind Harry of the real thing that had happened, but then he remembered that the first time Harry told a story, he had seemed quite happy for the distraction, and when talking about the fox-hunt he had only been disappointed that he had screwed up the date. Harry was obviously thinking about his husband all the time anyway, so a story might take his mind off things. Still, in those days Eggsy knew that there was never a right time, so he let it rest. 

****

One evening, when Eggsy got home, Dean was drunk, which was in itself not very surprising, but the level of drunkness was. He was in that stage where he was sober enough to think somewhat clearly, but drunk enough that all inhibitions disappeared completely. It was his most dangerous state, and one that Eggsy mostly managed to avoid. He walked through the living room quickly, to reach his bedroom before Dean would notice, but no such luck. “Where've you been?” Dean asked loudly, aiming his red-eyed gaze at Eggsy. 

“Work,” Eggsy mumbled, and opened the door to his bedroom.

“Work?” Dean sneered. “Whoring is no job.” 

Eggsy ignored the dig. He had never 'whored' but Dean preferred to think he had, ever since…   
It didn't matter now. He closed the door behind him. For the hundredth time, he reminded himself to buy a new lock for his door. He had barely finished the thought, when Dean opened the door and said, “I asked where you've been!” 

“WORK!” Eggsy said. 

“SURE! Muggsy has a job! As what?! Bloody Prime Minister?” Dean bellowed from the doorway.

“Who are you to talk? It's not like you've got a job!” Eggsy knew it was the wrong thing to say, but he couldn't stop himself. Burglary was not a job. None of the things Dean did to get money could be considered jobs. 

“YOU CAN BE DAMN LUCKY I LET YOU STAY HERE! THIS IS MY HOUSE, REMEMBER!” Dean pushed into the room, and there was nothing Eggsy could do to stop him. As Dean swung back his fists, Eggsy knew exactly how this was going to end.

****

He hated the shock and worry on Harry's face when he saw him. “What happened?!” Harry asked, looking Eggsy up and down, looking for more injuries.

“Spare me your pity!” Eggsy said. He was not in the mood for it. Not after days of silence. Not with Harry lying to him about everything. Not after having slept like shit because his ribs hurt no matter how he positioned himself. 

Harry looked offended for a second, then the worry was back on his face. “Who did that? Eggsy! What happened?”

Eggsy wished Harry would just give it a rest. He walked towards the stairs, in what he hoped was a clear indication that the conversation was over. The soft sound of the wheels turning followed him. Eggsy waited for Harry to position his wheelchair at the stairs, but Harry stopped halfway through the hallway. He was still looking at Eggsy with wide eyes. “What happened?” he repeated. 

Eggsy sighed. “I fell out of my rocketship,” he said.

Harry looked annoyed at the answer, but finally moved to the stairs. “You can tell me the truth. I'm just worried about you, you know.” 

“Well, then you know how I feel,” Eggsy said bitterly, and put his arm around Harry to lift him out of the chair. Eggsy's ribs hurt when he lifted Harry, and he felt the bruises on his arm where Harry's body leaned against them, but he didn't let it show. Harry was only able to see the bruises on his face anyway, as if that wasn't bad enough. 

“Point taken,” Harry mumbled, and gripped the railing. 

He seemed even less steady than on previous days, but Eggsy was not in the mood to talk about it. He had fucking offered to help him turn his mysterious spare room into a bedroom, and Harry had shut that idea down, so it was his own bloody problem, wasn't it?

The second Harry was in his downstairs wheelchair, Eggsy went into the kitchen to make breakfast. He heard Harry approach, and stop in the doorway. 

“If you want to put something in those bruises, there is-” 

Eggsy interrupted him, and looked over his shoulder. “I'm fine.” 

Harry looked unsure, but nodded. “Are you… is your home situation...” 

“My home situation is none of your business, is it?” Eggsy asked curtly. “Now, is there anything you need me to do before I make breakfast?” 

Harry gave up. “No, there isn't,” he mumbled, and reversed his chair. 

****

The bruises faded, Eggsy got over himself and apologised for his rocketship-comment, and Harry told him it was okay. They both knew why he had said it though. Why would Eggsy be honest if Harry wasn't? But they never spoke about it again. In fact, they went back to spending their days in near -though mostly not uncomfortable- silence. It was unpredictable when Harry would be in a good mood, and the strength in his hands was also different every day. Multiple times, Eggsy helped him with buttons, though he didn't need to help him with the shower. Yet. They both dreaded the moment that would be necessary. 

Eggsy got used to the mood swings and the silence. He put a bunch of new songs on his iPod and went about his day. 

One day, Harry was reading a book, or at least pretending to read. After a while, he stopped, and said “Could you help me upstairs?” 

Eggsy got up. “Of course.” It was only four o'clock. Surely, Harry didn't want to go to bed already? 

“I'm sorry I'm in such a bad mood,” Harry mumbled while Eggsy put his arm around him and walked up the stairs slowly. 

“It's okay, bruv. Everyone's got these days, right?” Once Harry was in his office, Eggsy asked “Shall I move the chair away?” 

Harry nodded, Eggsy moved the chair from behind the desk into the corner, and asked if there was anything else he could do. There wasn't, so he went downstairs and did the dishes, while singing along to the music on his iPod. After a while, he thought he heard a voice, so he pulled out his earbuds. 

“EGGSY! EGGSY!” 

He dropped his tea towel and ran up the stairs as fast as he could, thinking Harry was hurt. Harry yelled something, which got drowned out by himself yelling “FUCK!”, as he stumbled and only barely managed to stay on his feet. He ripped open the door to Harry's office, to find Harry sitting at the desk, exactly the way he had left him. 

Harry looked slightly guilty, and softly repeated what he had said as Eggsy fell “… no need to run.” Then he smiled, the first genuine smile in a long time, and said “I'm sorry I had to yell, but you were not responding.” He looked at the earbuds dangling out of Eggsy's shirt. “Now I see why. But I actually just wanted to ask what terrible music you're listening to, and if you are aware you're a terrible singer.” 

Eggsy almost laughed with relief. Harry wasn't hurt. Thank God. He exhaled slowly, and tried to slow his heartbeat. “Excuse you?! Terrible music? This masterpiece I was singing along to was not terrible. And neither is my voice, thank you very much.” 

“We'll have to agree to disagree,” Harry said diplomatically. Obviously, his mood had inexplicably changed for the better in the last half hour. 

“It was 'The Breach' by Lazy Habits.” Eggsy said. 

Harry looked at him blankly. “Never heard of them.” 

“Of course not,” Eggsy said, rolling his eyes. “What music do you listen to, since you obviously have superior taste in music?” 

Harry pursed his lips. “The classics. And classical music.” 

“Oh God, no! Freaking Bach, and… Mozart?” 

Harry laughed. It was good to hear the sound again. “Were those the only two you could think of?”

“Pretty much. But at least I HAVE heard of them!” he chuckled. “Not that I actually know their music or anything.” 

“I'm sure you have heard many classic pieces without even realising it. And I'm sure even you would like them.” 

“I'm pretty sure I wouldn't.” 

Harry grinned. “Let's bet on it. Remember this title: Beethoven symphony seven, movement two. Look it up, and I'm sure you'll not only know it, you'll also like it.” 

“And if I haven't heard it? Or think it sucks?” Eggsy asked. He never listened to classical music. There was no way he'd know this one. 

“Then you can say 'I told you so'.” Harry said. He looked very confident though. 

“Deal.” 

****

Harry asked him to bring dinner upstairs, and they ate together in the office. The mood had lightened up considerably, and eventually, when they were done eating, Eggsy grinned at Harry and said. “Your last story was really full of shit. You're slacking, Harry.” 

Harry frowned. He looked weird, almost like he was mad, even though the comment had clearly been in jest. Apparently, he was still in a bad mood. “How about this,” Harry said, and though his voice was calm, it was the kind of calm that made Eggsy nervous. The kind that could turn into heartbreaking rage any second. “I am- I WAS a secret agent. Until a mission -in Denmark of all places- went to shit. It was six years ago, a cold night in November, and I was sent on a mission to foil the plans of a megalomaniac who wanted to blow up the major banks in North-Europe. It was in a village near Silkeborg, and it was absolutely freezing outside, but I walked through the pouring rain to meet a man who could give me more information about the guy we were looking for. I wasn't there on my own. Three agents were stand-by, in case my contact turned out to belong to the other side after all. He didn't. He gave me the information he knew, and as I left the building we had met in, I heard a sound upstairs, the sound of a body hitting the floor. It was in that moment that I knew he was dead. It was also the exact moment I knew that I was done for.” He clenched his jaw for a moment, but didn't look at Eggsy. All through the story, his eyes were fixed on the table in between them. “There was nothing I -or anyone- could do. I didn't even have time to move to the side, because it was already too late, and I knew it, I knew it with my whole being. The bullet hit me in the spine, between the fourteenth and fifteenth vertebrae. Had it hit me two vertebra up, I would not be able to move my neck, hands and arms anymore. I guess I was lucky.” He smiled, a tense, bitter smile. “It had been a trap. My contact didn't know that, as we found out later. He hadn't set me up just to get killed for the effort. Rather, the person who shot me, Pelageya Gorbunova, had been watching him for weeks. She was hired by Alvar Cederström, the guy I was sent to kill.” Harry stopped talking. For a long time, he just stared at the table, his face completely blank. Then he continued. “Maybe it was justice, somehow. I mean, I was there to kill someone, and I ended up being someone else's target. Why not? Why would my life be of more importance than someone else's? Pelageya was never found, though we know of multiple kills she has made since then.” There was respect in his voice now, which Eggsy didn't quite understand. He was talking about the woman who had caused this entire messed up situation, and yet he seemed to admire her. “The job got done anyway. Lancelot shot Cederström two days later. See, the information my contact had given me was correct, and they were listening in through my glasses. Gorbunova could have killed me. She could have easily put a second bullet through me. She could have done it before I ever entered the building, and we would probably never have found her employer. But that's the thing. She didn't care if he got killed, it was not her job to protect him, only to stop me. She only does what's in the contract, nothing less, nothing more. I guess that's why she didn't kill me. The contract didn't say she had to, so she didn't. God bless Cederström for being so unspecific, right?” He looked like he was secretly cursing the man for it, like he had wished the guy would just have written 'kill' instead of 'stop'. Like the prospect of dying seemed to bring him happiness, more than this life ever could. “Like I said, Lancelot was the one to kill him. It was a clean shot, straight through both temples. It is the way I wish-” he stopped abruptly and looked at Eggsy. “I'm tired, I want to go to bed.” 

Eggsy jumped to his feet, trying to shake himself out of this daze the story had put him in. “But-” it was not his place to argue. Not the place or the time. “Of course,” he said weakly. He was distracted while he pushed the wheelchair towards the bedroom. 

Harry didn't say another word. He had his eyes closed, like he was dreaming already, but Eggsy knew he wouldn't get any sleep tonight. He had retreated back into his own mind, and Eggsy could only hope he would come out unscathed. 

As he lifted Harry into the bed, Harry opened his eyes. 

Eggsy started to unbutton Harry's shirt, but Harry lifted one hand to stop him. “Don't. Just leave, please.” Eggsy took a step back. “Yes, Harry,” he said softly. 

Harry closed his eyes again, and folded his hands over his chest. It was the way one would lie in his casket. It was a disheartening thought. Eggsy felt like he needed to say something, but couldn't think of anything. Harry had never looked this broken. 

He needed to know. 

He needed it like he had never needed to know anything before. As he switched the lights off, and could only make out Harry's silhouette, lying perfectly still in the bed, he dared to ask. He spoke the words softly into the darkness. “Harry? This one was true, wasn't it?” 

The silence lasted so long, he was sure Harry wouldn't answer at all. Eggsy turned around and went to close the door behind himself. Just before the door closed, he heard the answer, said softly but earnestly, like a gust of wind. 

“Yes.”


	5. Chapter 5

Eggsy stumbled out of the house with a ringing in his ears. He felt like crying, but no tears would come. The story was true, he had known that from the moment Harry started talking, but it couldn't, it simply couldn't be true.

It was.

How? 

Harry Hart, the posh gentleman with the juvenile sense of humour was a secret agent. It shouldn't make as much sense as it did. It explained why he didn't want anyone to know what had happened, because it was a secret. It explained the scars on his body, and the lame excuse he gave for it. Fuck, it even explained why he was so fucking bored all the time, after a living an exciting life like that, everything had to feel boring. Jesus christ. A fucking secret agent!

Eggsy turned around and looked at the house for a moment. Who would have thought? Did anyone know who Harry really was? Eggsy felt a bout of panic rise within him. He was not allowed to know this either. Fuck! What if they were going to kill him now? He chewed his lip to keep from laughing hysterically. Harry wouldn't do that.

Wouldn't he? He barely knew the guy. 

Merlin had warned him not to ask, just moments after making some comment about losing carers to the stairs. Perhaps that hadn't been a joke, just a warning. 'We'll stage your death if you do find out.' Merlin definitely knew the truth though. Shit, of course! Eggsy hadn't bought the whole IT-spiel, in fact, he had suspected right from the start that there was something up with Merlin. Maybe his hacker-for-the-government assumption hadn't been far off?

No, the thought was absurd, and still Eggsy looked over his shoulder more than usually while walking to the bus. 

What if Harry didn't want him back after this? Perhaps he regretted having told it, maybe he was right now calling Merlin to let him know Eggsy should be fired. Or murdered. But more likely fired. Fuck, why did he always mess up so badly? Why did he let his curiosity ruin the one chance he had? Why did he bully a man into telling him his deepest darkest secret? Eggsy felt haunted the entire way home. He would go to see Harry tomorrow, and apologise. Even if it was the last thing he would ever do.

****

Harry felt completely numb. He had never told this story before, not like this. Of course, he had given a short version of events to Merlin, but after that he had refused to talk about it. Maybe it was because it had never bothered him that much. Yes, he hated being in a wheelchair, but it was nothing compared to the pain he had been through two months before that, when Percy…

He pushed himself up a bit, flipped the lightswitch on his reading light, and reached for the picture on his nightstand. The picture had been taken by Harry on Percival's fortieth birthday, right as he opened his present, though that was not visible in the picture. What it did show though, was Percival's happiness. He looked right at the camera, or rather at Harry, with that typical twinkle in his eyes, and a smile that warmed and broke Harry's heart, even after all this time. Harry lay down on his side, with the picture in his hands. He stared at it for hours, and even when he finally switched off his lights, he didn't let go of it. “No more secrets, Percy.” he whispered. He fell asleep with a smile on his face. 

****

Harry was still in bed when Eggsy knocked. He had expected it. Harry probably felt really fucking awful after having to relive that day for Eggsy's amusement. What he had not expected however, was to hear a very cheerful “Come in!” Eggsy opened the door and lingered in the doorway awkwardly. Harry was sitting up in bed. He looked tired, but his smile seemed real. Still, Eggsy had a mission. “I'm sorry about yesterday. I shouldn't have asked,” he said, looking alternately at Harry and at the ground. 

“It's okay,” Harry said. He spoke softly, but sounded determined. “I wanted to tell you, I think. I… I needed to talk about it. Even if I didn't know that.” 

“You're not mad at me?” Eggsy asked surprised. He didn't allow himself to feel relieved just yet. 

Harry shook his head. “No. But I think we should talk about this. Why don't you go fix some breakfast, and then we'll have a real conversation about it?”

“Yes!” Eggsy said, a bit too eager perhaps, but he was so glad that Harry seemed to be okay. He wasn't sure what he had feared, but Harry looked better than he had done the previous days. Maybe talking about it had actually done him some good.

****

Eggsy returned within minutes, and after he had had his first sip of tea, Harry started talking. “So, I already told you I was a secret agent. I think this goes without saying, but everything I'm about to tell you, will never leave this room. Okay?” He tried to look stern. 

Eggsy nodded enthusiastically. “Bruv, if there's one thing I can do, it's keep me mouth shut!” he lowered his voice, and leaned in, as if letting Harry in on a big secret. “I was afraid all night that someone would show up to kill me in me sleep!”

Harry smirked. “If anything I tell you leaves this room, that can still happen.” 

Eggsy obviously believed him, but he didn't look scared. He seemed impressed. “That's really fucking awesome!” They were sitting up in bed again, but Eggsy hadn't eaten anything yet. He was incapable of sitting still. Harry knew he was desperate to hear everything, and he enjoyed keeping Eggsy in suspense for a while longer while he ate his toast. Eggsy knew what he was doing. He sighed loudly, grinned at Harry and nibbled on a piece of toast, while giving Harry a pleading look. 

Finally, Harry finished his -deliberately slow- breakfast, and set his teacup aside. Then he took something from under his pillow. It was a framed picture. 

Eggsy knew who it was even before Harry said it. It was obvious from the way he looked at the man in the picture; with fondness, sadness and pride. 

“This is Percival. My husband. I think it's only fitting that I talk about him first.”

****

Eggsy tried to keep silent while Harry talked. He took in every word, mulled them over in his mind, tried to anticipate where the story would go, but was still surprised every once in a while. Sometimes, he couldn't help himself, and simply HAD to ask something. Harry didn't seem to mind. The words kept pouring out, as if they had been bottled up for too long. He spoke softly, sometimes he smiled at his memories, sometimes he looked sad, but never angry. He seemed calm. 

“I was recruited for a secret organisation when I was in university. Not MI6. Kingsman.” 

Eggsy nodded. He didn't want to interrupt, even though that first sentence already made countless questions appear in his mind. 

“I made it through the tests, and was hired. I was twenty-three at the time. One year later, another young man was recruited. His codename was Percival.” 

Harry smiled at the picture, and Eggsy could imagine exactly what the man had looked like back then. He had bright blue eyes, which sparkled with mischief, his hair was so dark it was almost black, and he smiled as if someone had just given him the world. Eggsy knew he was looking at Harry behind the camera, and that was both beautiful and sad at the same time. Percival looked so _happy_. He seemed like the kind of person who would find something positive in everything, like someone who laughed hard and often. Eggsy wished he could have met him. 

“We became best friends right away. It was strange, really. I never warmed to people that quickly.” He chuckled, and looked at Eggsy briefly. “As you've found out.” He smiled at the picture again. “The first time I saw him, was during one of the tests he was going through. We were watching the recruits on a monitor, and… well, I can't tell you exactly what the test was -that's classified- but it was incredibly dangerous. And Percy… he just laughed. He looked death in the eyes, and laughed.” The memory made Harry laugh, even after all these years. He couldn't tell Eggsy everything that had happened. It was during the traintest, when Percival saw the train approach, looked at the man in front of him, and understood. The man had screamed at him to tell him what Kingsman was, and Percival had stopped struggling against the ropes, had frowned at the man and said “Stop yelling at me. You're giving me a boner.” And then he had taken one last look at the train, and accepted he was going to die. He had closed his eyes and started laughing, and he hadn't stopped until minutes after the train had gone past above him, and the old Tristan had appeared to cut him loose. “He was crazy like that. He was not afraid of anything or anyone, not even of death. He would have killed for me. He would have died for me.” _And he did_ , he added quietly. “He made it through the tests, became an agent, and soon we were sent on a mission together. It went well, and we were chosen to go on a mission abroad together, a mission that could take months or even years.” 

Eggsy had never seen him like this. Happiness wasn't even the right word. It was a calmness… serenity. That was it. Serenity. 

“We were in Berlin, right as it was all happening.” 

Eggsy couldn't stop himself. “What was hap- oh my God! You mean when the bloody wall came down?!” 

Harry grinned and nodded. “It was amazing. I had never seen anything like it, and have never seen anything like it since.” His eyes were gleaming, and Eggsy knew he was back there at that moment, in 1989, and could smell and see and feel Berlin as it was back then. “Percival and I were right in the middle of it. We were watching the news when Günter Schabowski said the travel ban was down, with immediate effect. We went there, to the border, just like hundreds of others. The guards didn't know what hit them.” He laughed. “See, Schabowski had messed up a bit, but the people demanded to be let through. And eventually the guards decided they didn't care either, and for the first time in years, people from the east travelled west, saw their families again, their friends... Grandparents met their grandchildren for the first time, old neighbours were reunited. It was beautiful. Percy and I were there when people started cutting down the wall themselves, we saw the first piece fall. And as that happened, we looked at each other and we knew our time there was up, and it was the best possible ending to something that most people had expected HAD no ending.”

Eggsy was mesmerized by his stories. To have been there, at that time… it had to be the most incredible experience. 

“We returned home in the morning of the next day, and toasted to the future. And then he kissed me.” Harry teared up a bit when he said it, and while his voice sounded like he had a lump in his throat, Eggsy knew they were happy tears. “We returned to England two weeks later, he moved in here, and we were a couple ever since.” 

“You've never talked about this before, have you? Any of this?” Eggsy asked softly. 

Harry shook his head. “I couldn't… it was too difficult.” He laughed softly. “It still is.”

****

Talking about these things seemed to be exhausting for Harry, so Eggsy didn't want to press him for more. He brought the empty cups and plates downstairs, then he waited outside the bathroom door again, and helped Harry with his buttons. Eggsy kept thinking about everything Harry had told him. He felt proud that he was the one Harry had confided in, even though he still felt a bit guilty at having pushed Harry for it. It was nice that there were no unspoken things lingering between them anymore, no secret that divided them. Their interaction became relaxed again, like it had been before Harry's moods started to become unreliable. 

Eventually, Eggsy did ask something about it, though he carefully avoided bringing up Percival. “Merlin is also involved, isn't he? In Kingsman?” he wondered what the name of the organisation meant. 

Harry grinned. “He is. You've suspected he wasn't really in IT, didn't you?”

Eggsy was proud that his intuition had been right. “Yes. And also that you weren't a tailor.”

“But I was!” Harry said with a cheeky smile. “All agents are. Well, except for Merlin. He is never in the shop if he can help it.” 

Over the next few days, Eggsy got to know more of these bits and pieces of how Kingsman worked. He learned that the Kingsman-tailorshop was a front for their headquarters, that every Kingsman had a codename from Arthurian legend, and that Harry's name had been Galahad. There were things Harry didn't want to talk about, like what kind of tests there were, and whether he had ever killed someone, though his look suggested that the answer was obvious. On the fifth day after telling Eggsy about Percival, he didn't manage to lift his razor anymore, so he asked Eggsy to do it. Eggsy eyed the razor with suspicion, and watched countless tutorials on YouTube first, before he dared to put the razor to Harry's cheek. “I'm afraid some Sweeney Todd-reflex will come over me, and I will cut your throat,” he said. It wasn't a joke. “These things look like you could kill a man with them.”

Harry wiggled his eyebrows at Eggsy in the mirror. 

Eggsy's jaw dropped. “Oh my GOD! You HAVE?” 

“I'm afraid that's classified,” Harry said, and laughed at the look of shock on Eggsy's face. 

Eggsy's palms were sweaty when he carefully started shaving Harry's cheek. He was standing bent over, to be as close as possible to Harry's face. His hands were steady, but he was concentrating very hard on not messing up. He was halfway through carefully shaving Harry's face, when Harry yelled out in pain. 

“JESUS!” Eggsy shouted, dropped the razor, and frantically looked for the cut, afraid that he had somehow hit a major artery, and Harry would bleed out. “WHERE DID I CUT YOU?” he yelled in a panic, and looked at Harry in the mirror. 

Harry had his lips pressed together, doing his best not to laugh, but when he saw realisation dawn on Eggsy, he started laughing. Hard. “I'm sorry!” he said, which would probably have been more believable if it hadn't been said through bouts of laughter. 

“FUCK!” Eggsy said, and swatted Harry on the arm. “First Mr Pickle, and now this! Do you want to fucking kill me?” But he started laughing too. “You're a child, Harry Hart! A bloody child!” 

Harry was grinning at him in the mirror. He looked ridiculous, grinning like an idiot with half his face still covered in shaving cream. 

Eggsy picked the razor up from Harry's lap. “I could have cut your dick off with this!”

Harry shrugged. “Do you think I've never dropped the razor while shaving? My dick is still attached.” 

Eggsy rolled his eyes. “What a relief.” He loved this, these small moments of humour, when Harry was so at ease that he could let his fun side out. While he continued his precarious task, he caught himself grinning, and a realisation hit him out of nowhere. 

Oh God, no. 

This was not the moment to start feeling like this. Not when Harry was finally talking about the love of his life. Not when there was finally a total openness between them. Eggsy bit the inside of his cheek nervously, hoping his inner turmoil didn't show. 

****

That evening, as Eggsy got into the shower, he started crying. He sat down and let the water run over his head and back, and did his best to pretend those weren't tears he was feeling. 

He was grieving. 

It was ridiculous. Grieving for Percival, a man he'd never met, a man he could never get to know beyond the stories Harry told him. He sounded amazing. Eggsy felt like he had no right to this sadness, like he was an imposter, a thief who took something that wasn't his and ran with it. But his sadness was genuine. He cried for a man he didn't know, a man he desperately wished was still alive, despite everything that meant. Most of all, he cried because this was not the moment to realise he was falling in love. 

****

“My parents want to come over,” Harry said. It sounded like he had just heard England would be swallowed up by a huge sinkhole in the next few minutes and there was nothing they could do about it. He looked at the letter with disgust. 

“You sound happy”, Eggsy said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He put away the clean cups and hung the tea towel back on its hook, then he went into the living room, and sat down at the table, across from Harry. 

Harry sighed loudly, almost the way Merlin did. “Well, they are very… posh.” He still had the letter in his hands. 

Eggsy grinned. “Harry, not to be a dick, but you are the poshest person I can imagine.” While that had bothered him once, that time seemed far away. He had gotten fond of Harry's posh way of speaking, his neat clothes, and the unexpected cracks in his poshness everytime he swore. The thought made him blush a bit, and he hoped it didn't show. 

Harry almost smiled. “Compared to my parents, I'm a chav.” 

Eggsy rolled his eyes. “I find that hard to believe. Anyway, just tell them you don't want them to come over. Say you're sick or something.” 

“That won't stop them, I'm afraid.” Harry moved closer. “See, they do not come here for me, they come to alleviate their own guilt. They feel like they have to come over regularly, which in this case means once a year, and then they are perfectly happy with ignoring me for the rest of the year.” 

Eggsy wasn't sure how to respond to that. “That sounds… harsh?” He didn't want to make judgements about Harry's parents, though he realised he already had. 

Harry shrugged. “It is what it is. I wish they didn't bother at all. We weren't in contact before...” he shook his head and looked away. “Tea?” he asked. 

Eggsy got the hint, or dismissal, and got up to put the kettle on. He knew how the sentence would have ended. Before the “accident”. What a bunch of dicks. He was certain he wouldn't like Harry's parents, and he was sure he would meet them. He would have to be there, right? Well, at least he would be able to gossip with Harry afterwards, to cheer him up a bit. They would only have to suffer through one afternoon, one day at most, and at least they could suffer it together. He stayed in the kitchen while the kettle boiled, giving Harry some time to gather his thoughts, and hopefully shake off the bad mood his parents' letter pushed him into. When he returned, Harry was staring into nothingness. Eggsy softly set down a cup of tea in front of him, and sat down on the couch himself, to stop himself from watching Harry with suspicion. He just needed some time. Time to recover. Eggsy hoped he would never be in a position where a letter from his mum ruined his day. It was a relief when he heard the soft scraping sounds of a cup being lifted from a saucer, followed by a soft clang as it was put back. 

Harry cleared his throat, and Eggsy turned his upper body on the couch so he could look at him. Harry gave him a tight smile. “I fear I might have given you the wrong idea. When I said I wasn't in contact with my parents before, I didn't mean before the accident. I meant-” he closed his eyes, taking himself out of his body, into a memory, no matter how painful. “I meant before Percival died.” 

Eggsy hesitated for a moment, then he got up and sat down opposite from Harry once more. “I'm sorry,” he said softly. 

Harry made a dismissive gesture, but nodded without opening his eyes. “Me too,” his voice was soft and broken. Suddenly he opened his eyes, and the sadness was gone, he just looked angry now. “You know what? My parents disowned me when I told them I was moving in with Percival. They gave me a choice, 'him or us', and when I chose him, they broke off all contact with me. I didn't care. No, that isn't true. I did care. I cared a lot, it hurt for a very long time, but I knew I had made the right choice, because Percival would never have made me choose. So I lived with Percival, and I loved him, and I never spoke to my parents and I found out I didn't miss them. How can you miss people like that? People who “just want the best for you, my boy”? People who are disappointed that you won't produce an heir? People who say “You'll meet a nice girl, and this situation will be solved”? It mattered to me that they were capable of being so horrible but their silence meant nothing to me, it was a relief, to be honest. They were out of my life completely. And then Percy died, and they wrote me a letter, saying I was “welcome home anytime”.” There were tears in Harry's eyes now, tears of sadness over Percival and anger at his parents. “I never responded to that one. I thought my silence, just like theirs, would be a clear enough message. And then I got injured, and they showed up at my hospitalbed and said “All is forgiven” as if they are the ones who decide that, as if forgiveness is a one-sided thing. And I made it clear to them that I didn't want them there, and that there was only one person I would have wanted there and that that person was dead, and that they would have known why I wanted him there if they had bothered getting to know him, if they had showed up at our wedding. If they had been to his funeral. If they had not hated him for crushing their dreams of a “normal” life for me.” Harry rubbed his eyes and downed the rest of his tea, his voice trembled when he continued. “They left without saying another word. And since then, I receive a letter once a year, them announcing they will come over. It's never a question. It is an announcement. And saying I'm sick won't stop them, leaving for the weekend won't stop them. They have got it in their head they need to see me once a year, and they will do it, whether I want it or not. They need to see their son, because apparently I started being family again after I stopped my degenerate lifestyle of living with a man.” 

Eggsy wanted nothing more than to reach out to him, to take Harry's hand in his own and tell him that he was sorry. But he knew that was not what Harry needed, and he wasn't sure if he could say the words, not when the prime emotion he felt was anger towards these people he had never met. Not with Harry crying over Percival. Not when a simple touch would mean more to him than to Harry. “You know, I could always run them over with the van.” he said. 

Harry managed a wobbly smile. “I'm afraid even that won't stop the Harts.” 

Eggsy smiled at him, and it didn't surprise him anymore how much fondness he felt for the older man. “Nothing can stop the Harts.” he said. And that was a relief.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings:
> 
> I have put trigger warnings in the end notes, to not spoil it for those who prefer to read without warnings.
> 
> So please look at the end notes if you need to! After the warning, there is a couple of blank lines, and then a major spoiler, in case that helps.

“We need a battle plan.” Harry said unexpectedly, with so much sincerity in his voice that it made Eggsy laugh and ungracefully spit his water back into its glass. 

He coughed, while still laughing, and said “Harry, its your folks, not the Spanish inquisition!” 

“Yes, that's the point. No one expects the Spanish inquisition, so one can't prepare for it. But we know when they'll be coming, so we can make a plan.” 

Eggsy raised his eyebrows. He didn't know whether he was exasperated, impressed, or amused. Harry meant it. He really, bloody meant it. “Okay. What kind of plan? Since you didn't want me to run them over.” He peered up. “I can poison them! With my cooking! It's brilliant!” 

Harry chuckled. “I was rather hoping they won't stay for dinner, but I appreciate your enthusiasm.” 

“Oooh!” Eggsy said, swinging his arms around joyfully. “I could open the door naked. And when they ask for you, I just say 'I don't know where he is, but he owns me twenty pounds and a new set of tweezers'.” 

Harry looked absolutely puzzled. “I don't want to know,” he said after a moment. “But again, I like the enthusiasm.” 

Eggsy calmed down a bit. “How long will they be here anyway?” 

Harry shrugged. “I guess that depends on how good our plan is.” 

“I'll think of something.” Eggsy said confidently. He wanted to say that he could always just start snogging Harry to scare off his parents, but thought better of it. It wasn't a joke to him, not really. “Oh, I just remembered… my mum is asking if she can meet you.” he blushed when he said it, and hoped Harry didn't notice. It was weird wasn't it, the thought that they'd be meeting each other's parents? “I guess she wants to get to know who this fella is I'm spending all my time with. Roxy has been bugging me about that as well, but that's just 'cause she thinks you're a serial killer.” 

Harry smirked. “And where would Roxy have gotten that idea?” 

“No clue,” Eggsy said with a grin. “Anyway, you don't have to meet my mum of course, I-” 

“I'd love to.” 

Eggsy looked at him. “Really?” 

Harry nodded. “Sure. Why wouldn't I? Is your step-dad coming as well?” 

Eggsy pulled a face. “No. Thank God. Believe me, that's not a bloke you'd like to meet.” When Harry raised an eyebrow, Eggsy felt compelled to explain. “Remember those bruises I had? Yeah, courtesy of my step-dad.” There was something in Harry's expression that Eggsy hadn't seen before. He couldn't figure out what it was. Concern? Anger? Disappointment? A weird mix of those? “It's fine, really. I'm not home in the daytime now anyway, so I mainly avoid him.” 

“This happened often?” Harry asked flatly. 

Eggsy bit the inside of his cheek nervously. “Well… often… what's often? But… It did happen.” He cleared his throat. He didn't want Harry's pity, or worry, or whatever it was. He didn't want Harry to think that this just happened with no reason. “The last time, that time you know about… it was because he didn't believe me I had a job. You know, it's like… that was the reason he did it. He thought I was taking the piss. That I was… he thought I had been out whoring.” He didn't look at Harry when he said this last sentence. What would Harry think of that? That it had been Eggsy's job before he started here? He needed to explain, even if it hurt. 

“The reason that he thought that, was because...” He covered his face with his hands. It was still difficult to talk about it, even though it had been three years ago. But Harry had poured his heart out to him, and if there was one person in this world who would understand, it was Harry. He took a deep breath, and looked Harry in the eyes. “My step-dad walked in on me and a bloke. He uhm… he assumed that the guy was paying me. And I kinda let him believe that. I thought that he would… I knew that he would've kicked me out if he believed that I was… and I convinced him it was the first time I had done that with a bloke, and that it would never… but yeah. Since then he thinks I'm a rentboy. He did threaten to beat the shit out of Cha- out of the guy I was with, but I… well, he got out without getting hurt, so there's that. But obviously that was where it ended for us.” 

“Jesus,” Harry said softly. “You protected him against your step-dad?” 

Eggsy shrugged. “It was not his fault that this happened. I shouldn't have brought him back to mine. I knew what Dean was like.” 

Harry reached out, as if he wanted to touch Eggsy's hand but changed his mind. He folded his hands on the table in front of him. “Eggsy...” he said softly. His voice sounded sad. “There IS no reason.” 

Eggsy looked up. 

Harry did his best to smile, but his eyes were sad. “When someone abuses you, that's because there is something wrong with the person who does it. Not because there is something wrong with you. It's not your fault. It's never your fault.” 

Eggsy felt a lump in his throat. He had known this, of course, but had never actually heard someone say the words. “Thank you,” he whispered, staring at the table for some time. From the corner of his eyes, he could see that Harry was looking at him. It was odd; he hadn't thought about Charlie in a very long time. And he had never thought that they could have been more than a couple of hookups, but still it hurt to talk about it. Probably because Charlie had put his clothes on and ran, while Eggsy was fighting off Dean. He could never be sure of it of course, but he liked to think that if it had been Charlie's dad, he would have stayed to help him. It didn't matter now. It was a long time ago. There was nothing he could change about the things that had happened. 

It wasn't about Charlie at all, of course. It was about Dean. The way he had reacted. Eggsy had often wondered how Lee would have reacted. Maybe it was better to not know; he could not get disappointed this way. And as Harry's situation proved, parents-by-blood could be just as horrible. 

“Eggsy?” 

“Huh?” Eggsy woke from his thoughts, and realised Harry had said his name a couple of times. “Sorry, I was miles away.” 

“A penny for your thoughts?” Harry said, grinning. 

“Uhm… well...” 

“You don't have to tell me,” Harry said quickly. 

“No, no. It's fine. It just… might sound a bit dickish.” Eggsy shrugged apologetically and said “I was just thinking, if I would have preferred growing up knowing my dad, if my dad was like yours, or not knowing him at all, like I have.” 

Harry didn't take offence in it. “You don't remember your dad at all?” he asked. 

“Not really. Some bits and pieces, you know? But I'm not sure if they really are my memories, or just things my mum has told me so often that I've adopted the memories as my own.” 

Harry nodded slowly. “Do you… and you don't need to answer this, of course, but do you know how he died?” 

“In the marines, that's all I know. They were pretty hush-hush about it, to be honest. Some man came to our house, said my dad had died, and that they couldn't tell us anything more.” Eggsy shrugged.

“I'm sorry,” Harry said. 

Eggsy didn't look at him, or he would have seen the way Harry's expression changed when he said it. 

****

Merlin was worried about Harry. Eggsy's three months were coming to an end, and Harry had not given any kind of indication yet whether he wanted him to stay. Merlin also knew that Harry's parents would come over, like they did every year, an occasion that always pushed Harry deeper into the darkest part of his mind. Every September, right as Harry was overwhelmed with sadness over Percival's death, his parents showed up to make it worse. 

In his email, Harry didn't mention the visit at all. He only asked Merlin to find out everything he could about Lee Unwin. Harry wrote what Eggsy had told him, that the circumstances of Lee Unwin's death had never been revealed to the family. 'Sounds like MI6, doesn't it?' Harry added. Merlin had to admit that it did. He wrote an email back, saying that he was busy reading updates on possible future recruits, but that he would look into it when he had the time. 

****

Two days before Harry's parents would visit, Harry and Eggsy went somewhere together for the first time, a fact Eggsy commented on with disbelief. 

“We went to the dentist.” Harry protested. 

Eggsy had just parked the van somewhere -Harry had refused to use public transportation, claiming it was never going to work- and was now walking in front of Harry, warning him about potholes and broken glass. 

It wasn't necessary per se, since the wheels of the chair were supposed to survive things like that, but it was nice of him to be so concerned. Eggsy turned around a bit, just to roll his eyes, and said “That doesn't count.” 

The pavement widened, and Eggsy slowed down so he was walking next to Harry. 

“And going shopping together does?” Harry asked.

“Of course!” 

Yesterday, Harry had said that it might be best if Eggsy wore his best clothes, to avoid awkward judgement. He hated conforming to his parents standards, but wanted to spare Eggsy the humiliation. “My best clothes? Like the sneakers with the wings?” Eggsy had asked. 

Harry's eyes had started gleaming. “Yes, exactly like that.” Fuck his parents. 

Eggsy had insisted that Harry go with him to buy something new, since Harry knew what 'posh people' considered to be nice. 

Harry was determined to guide Eggsy towards the clothes his parents would hate the most, and had told Eggsy this outright. He didn't want Eggsy to feel like he was the butt of a joke. Not again. So now they were making their way through London's streets, looking for the most horrible outfit they could find. 

Forty minutes later, Harry waited patiently while Eggsy kept coming out out of a dressing room in one outfit after the next, all of which looked as if they were meant to exercise in. He noticed the saleslady look at him, and hoped she wouldn't come over. Of course she did, right as Eggsy had disappeared in the dressing room again. 

She gave him a friendly smile, which Harry answered with a rather forced smile of his own. “Is there anything I can help you with?” she asked. While she had been speaking fast and loud with the other customers, now she lowered her voice and spoke slowly. 

Something deep inside of Harry's chest started to hurt when she did that. It was one of the reasons he didn't like going anywhere these days. People assumed he was mentally handicapped, and some spoke to him like this, while others preferred to ignore him and speak to whichever person he was with. 

He opened his mouth to say something rude, when Eggsy came out again, and said “Harry, did this nice lady ask you a question?” He spoke the way the lady had done, and leaned down a bit to stroke Harry's hair. He turned to the lady. “This is my son, Harry.” 

The lady looked at both of them in absolute shock. Harry almost burst into laughter, but managed to keep a straight face. 

“He's five years old.” Eggsy said, sounding absolutely sincere. “He has glastomia. It's very rare. Makes people age like crazy.” He ruffled Harry's hair again. “But we manage, don't we kiddo?” 

Harry was at a loss for words. Luckily, that didn't bother Eggsy in the slightest. 

“He gets very shy around new people. Last year, when he went to pre-school, the kids thought he was their teacher! Can you imagine? A four year old as a teacher? Only because he was wearing a suit! But what else am I supposed to dress him in? They don't make nice Transformers-onesies for adult sizes.” He threw his hands up, as if to stress the absurdity of that. “If they did, we would totally rock it though, wouldn't we Har-Har?” 

The woman still looked shocked. Her eyes kept going from Harry to Eggsy, as if she was not quite sure what to believe. “If there is anything you need help with…” she said hesitantly, gave them a quick nod, and left. 

She was barely out of hearing distance when Eggsy cheerfully said “What a cunt. Hey, I think it won't get worse than what I'm wearing now.” He spread his arms and twirled. He was wearing a truly horrible neon-coloured windbreaker. It looked as if Eggsy had gotten in the way of some enthusiastic graffiti amateurs, or as if some toddlers had tried to cover the item in as many random colours as possible. Harry's parents would absolutely hate it. 

“I love it.” Harry said.

Eggsy looked satisfied. “Me too. Wanna go for icecream, kiddo?” 

Harry rolled his eyes. “If that makes you happy. And stop calling me kiddo.” 

“Alright. Little 'un.” He winked at Harry, and went to the counter to pay. 

****

“I don't think I will ever be truly able to fully take in the horribleness of that… thing.” Harry said. 

Eggsy laughed, and opened the plastic bag a bit to look at his purchase with pride. “I'm never going to wear anything else ever again.” He bit into his chocolate ice cream, and shuddered a bit. 

Neither of them had mentioned the lady again. Eggsy really was quite good at determining which things Harry wanted to discuss, and which things he would rather just forget. Despite everything they had told each other over the last weeks, Eggsy had never brought up the spare room again. 

“So, tomorrow.” Harry said, in a tone of voice as if he was an officer talking to his soldiers. The effect was rather diminished by him licking his strawberry ice cream between words. “The plan is to make it all go as smoothly as possible, to minimize awkwardness, and hope they will leave rather quickly. They will dislike your clothes, but we will both try to not piss them off. We will be polite to them no matter what.” 

“We'll just be ourselves.” Eggsy said.

Harry stopped in the middle of the pavement. “Have you not been listening to a word I said?” 

“Rude!” Eggsy said. “Anyway, my offer for plan B still stands. I can whip out my cock at any moment to scare them off.” 

Harry said “Ha, ha, haaa,” sarcastically while giving Eggsy a disapproving look. “Well, let's hope it won't come to that.” 

“Rude!” Eggsy exclaimed again. “Come on, bruv. How horrible can it be? I'm there, and I'm a fucking delight.” 

Now Harry laughed for real. 

“Fucking rude,” Eggsy mumbled, grinning from ear to ear. 

****

They went to see Mad Max in the cinema. Harry had protested at first, but when Eggsy pointed out that there was a wheelchair ramp and that it was the last day the film played, he gave in. 

Eggsy considered that a small victory. Maybe this could become a regular thing. They could alternate between Harry's weird foreign films, and Eggsy's blockbusters. Maybe Harry would get less and less bothered by the wheelchair, and they could go to other places as well. Concerts, the kind where one dressed up nicely and sat quietly in their chair. Or to the library. Eggsy made a mental note to make a list of places they could go next.

They sat in the front of the cinema. In that row, the outermost two chairs were removed, so a wheelchair could be placed there. While the front row was not the best place to be by any means, it was rather nice that no one was seated in front of them who could block the view. 

“What is this film about?” Harry mumbled as the trailers started.

“Nothing. It's a two hour car-chase, bruv. That's all ya need to know.” 

Harry sighed. “How did you talk me into this?” 

“With my buckets of charm.” Eggsy said, smirking at him. 

Harry rolled his eyes and shut his mouth. 

Eggsy's eyes were glued to the screen most of the time, but towards the end he glanced to the side to see if Harry was enjoying himself, and saw that Harry was smiling, while silent tears ran down his cheeks. Eggsy knew him well enough to know he should ignore it, at least for now. They were not sad tears, not really. He was sure of that. 

After the film was done, Eggsy got up and wiped the tears away with his sleeve, but he didn't mention them. There was no need to talk about it. Both of them knew that the reason Harry was crying, was because Percival would have loved the film. 

****

The awkwardness that had once existed between Harry and Eggsy was nothing compared to the awkwardness when his parents arrived. Their behaviour always made Harry cringe, but now that he saw them through Eggsy's eyes, it was even worse. It all started with the look they gave Eggsy when he opened the door for them. Harry was watching from the doorway to the livingroom, and saw the way his mum looked Eggsy up and down, and judged every single aspect about him. 

Eggsy shook hands with both his parents, saying “Eggsy,” both times, while they introduced themselves as Harold Hart and Claire Hart. Harry just hoped that Eggsy wouldn't start calling HIM Harold. “Harry is in the living room.” Eggsy said.

Harry's mum raised her eyebrows when he called him Harry, she probably had expected a 'mister Hart'. She looked past Eggsy, saw Harry, and tried to force a smile. It wasn't very successful. 

“Hello Dear,” she said stiffly, leaning down to kiss his cheek. 

His dad shook his hand and gave him a stiff nod. He wasn't much of a talker, which Harry appreciated. 

Eggsy closed the door and followed all of them into the living room. “Tea?” he asked.

“Lovely,” Claire replied. She looked him up and down again. 

Eggsy disappeared into the kitchen, and Harry's parents sat down. Harry was already fantasising about the moment they would leave. 

“Is this young man your new carer?” Claire asked.

 _No, he is my lover_ , Harry thought, mentally rolling his eyes. “Yes,” he said instead, reminding himself not to be rude.

“What did he say his name was?” she asked. 

Eggsy came back, and said “Eggsy.” 

She looked at him and forced a smile. “I'm not familiar with that name. What is it an abbreviation of?” 

Eggsy looked at Harry for a moment. “Eggs?” he said then, as if it was incredibly obvious. He cleared his throat and went back to the kitchen. 

The Hart-curse had already gotten to him. It was like a special gift his mum possessed, that could make any person feel like shit. 

Claire looked annoyed, but didn't comment on it. “Marigold has had a baby,” she said, and her tone suggested this was very important news.

 _Who the fuck is Marigold?_ “That's nice.” Harry said. Was she a cousin? A neighbour? He had no idea, and he cared even less. 

“What happened to the previous carer? The… heavy-set woman? She seemed nice.” Her voice was full of judgement. 

The woman she referred to had been horrible. There had also been countless others after she left, but he didn't say. He made something up about her moving away. His dad had still not said a word. Claire kept talking about people Harry didn't know, as if it was her mission to give him updates about their lives. 

Eggsy returned with tea and biscuits, and sat down as well, which made Claire raise her eyebrows. She stopped talking. For a moment, there was just awkward silence. Then Harry's dad cleared his throat, sounding as if he hadn't spoken in days. Which, considering how much his mum talked, was a possibility. “How have you been?” he asked sincerely, finally looking at Harry.

_I'm still paralysed._

_I miss Percival so much it literally affects what health I have left._

_I have dreaded you two coming here ever since I got your letter._

“I'm fine, thank you.” 

Eggsy winked at him, which probably was meant as encouragement. As so often, he appeared to know exactly what Harry was thinking. 

“I noticed your picket fence is gone,” Harry's mother said. It was unbelievable how much judgement she could put into a simple statement like that. 

Eggsy grinned, which he hid behind his cup of tea. 

“Yes,” Harry said. “It made the garden inaccessible. So I asked Eggsy to get rid of it. It's a good place to park the van.” It was parked there now, another thing his mum probably hated.

“I see,” she said. “So, 'Eggsy', how did you become a carer?” 

Oh no. Harry groaned internally. 

Eggsy's eyes widened. “I uhm… I just saw the ad in the papers. So I came here, did the interview… and now I've been here for three months.” He didn't realise the significance of what he was saying. Tomorrow would be the last day of his three months, but he had never asked Harry if he wanted him to stay. He probably either assumed that he would, or had not even noticed that his trial was coming to an end. 

Eggsy had no idea how important that date was for Harry. And hopefully, he would never find out.

****

Eggsy felt incredibly awkward. In any other situation, Harry's mother's coldness would have been amusing to him, but since he was doing his best to be polite, it just grated on him. She obviously thought he was bad at his job, only based on his appearance. He understood now why Harry hoped they wouldn't stay for dinner. While he felt slightly guilty doing so, he left Harry on his own as soon as they had had their tea, and busied himself in the kitchen. He could hear Harry's mum start to talk about people he had never heard of again, and wondered whether Harry knew who they were. He was almost certain that Harry didn't care, but let his mum talk so the conversation wouldn't be about himself. Eggsy tuned out for a bit, and when he started listening again, he wished he hadn't. Somehow, the conversation had taken a weird turn. It was about him now.

“And you are sure he drives carefully? People like him-” 

“You don't know him.” Harry said, sounding so incredibly polite that Eggsy knew he was raging on the inside. 

“I only want what's best for you. I know how difficult it is for you to get back in a car.” 

What was that supposed to mean? Eggsy felt offended that she doubted his driving skills, even if she was kinda right. He wasn't _careful_ , but he was _good_. Who was she to judge? And what did she mean, that it was difficult?

“Do you?” Harry asked, and now annoyance was seeping through.

“Don't be like that,” his mum said, sounding as if she were addressing a toddler. It couldn't be more different from the way Eggsy had jokingly done the same in the store. It sounded like she was used to going back to this voice, as if she slipped into it without meaning to. “Since Percival caused the accident-” 

Eggsy gasped.

“I don't want to talk about Percival.” Harry said softly.

Eggsy stood in the kitchen, feeling utterly lost. Harry's parents thought that Percival had been in a car accident that had killed him and paralysed Harry. Sure, Eggsy had thought the same at one point, but they thought he had _caused_ it. They blamed him for his own death, and for Harry's situation. Eggsy could not imagine how terrible that must feel. While he knew that Percival had been a secret agent, Harry's parents thought he was just a tailor, a tailor who had first caused a rift between them and their son, and later caused his injuries as well. 

They hated Percival. Now he understood why Harry had seemed so sad before. He had known that Percival would be brought up eventually. They likely had the same conversations each year. Eggsy needed to save him. He needed to change the subject before Harry broke down. 

He stepped into the living room and blurted out “Have you seen Mr Pickle yet?” 

Harry's parents both startled, and looked at him with wide open eyes. Harry looked relieved though, and that was the only thing that counted. 

“My sister was at a birthday party a while ago, and she still had one of these little party hats, you know? So I took it here, and put it on Mr Pickle. I think he looks rather handsome now. Don't you agree Harry?” 

Harry's parents looked at Harry now, as if they were hoping he'd make sense of this. Harry just said “Yes, it really cheers up the whole room.” 

“You still have Mr Pickle?” Harry's dad said, the second thing he'd said all day. He got up, probably to look at it. That seemed to annoy Harry's mum, but she did change the subject. Not that that was for the better, sadly. 

“Speaking of birthdays, it was Anthony Maher's birthday some weeks ago, and apparently he's come out as a homosexual.” She raised her eyebrows when she said it, as if it was something very scandalous. 

Harry frowned. “I have no clue who that is. Good for him, I guess.” 

Harry's dad returned. Claire touched his hand as he sat down. “We've been reading up on it a lot, haven't we, Harold?” 

Harold nodded. 

Eggsy was pretty sure he didn't know what she was talking about. Neither did he.

“As it turns out, there is no proof yet what causes homosexuality.” 

Eggsy's jaw dropped. She said it as if talking about a disease. Jesus fucking Christ.

“There is this whole nature versus nurture debate,” she continued, looked at Harry. “You know we had a hard time with it-” _still do_ , Eggsy thought, “but we try to understand, we really do.” 

Harry exhaled slowly, determined not to make this even more unpleasant. 

Eggsy, however, couldn't take it anymore. He cleared his throat, so Claire would look at him, looked her straight in the eyes and said “Nature or nurture, either way it's your fault, so get over it.” 

“Hnnnng!” Harry made a weird strangled sound and started coughing, a feeble attempt to hide his laughter, while Claire couldn't have looked more shocked if Eggsy had just pulled his cock out. She opened her mouth, closed it again, looked at her husband for support, and then narrowed her eyes at Harry, who was pressing his lips together and trying to stifle his laughter. 

“Fuck, seriously though! What the hell is your problem? Your husband at least had the courtesy to ask how Harry's doing, all you do is talk about boring shit and try to put him down!” Eggsy didn't care he was being rude, he didn't give a fuck about this woman at all. 

“Harold!” Harry's mum said, and only when she turned her furious gaze on Harry, did all of them realise she meant him. “Are you just going to let him talk to me like that?!” Her voice had gotten shrill and loud. 

Harry shrugged. “Obviously, yes. I guess it's in my nature.” 

His mum got up abruptly. “Harold, we're going!” 

Harry's father got up as well. He looked at Harry and Eggsy nervously, and nodded at both of them. While his wife stormed out of the room, he shook Eggsy's hand and said “It was nice to meet you.”  
Eggsy wasn't sure if he was kidding or not. Then Harold put his hand on Harry's shoulder for a moment, but he didn't speak. 

Harry nodded at him, and there were lots of unsaid things in that nod, like he acknowledged that it wasn't his dads fault. Like they both knew what this meant. His mum, at least, would not be coming back. 

Harold left the room, and a moment later they heard the front door fall shut. 

“Did I just fuck up, or…?” Eggsy asked.

Harry looked up at him. “No, that was amazing,” he said softly. Then he started laughing and crying, both at the same time.

****

Eggsy sat down on the chair next to Harry, and put his arm around him for a moment. 

Harry tried to breathe slowly, to calm his shaking body. “'Nature or nurture, either way it's your fault'?” he quoted, turning it into a question. 

Eggsy laughed. “Yeah. I wish I could take credit for that one, but it's what Roxy told her dad when he was being a dick about it, and Roxy has it from a film as well. I don't know, I thought it was fitting.” 

“It was.” Harry said. He didn't know how to feel. He was glad Eggsy had put a stop to his torment, he was relieved his parents were gone, and he felt oddly proud of Eggsy for having the guts to say these things. They were things Harry had thought, but never said. He never would have to think them again.

But he felt sad as well, because he had felt a fondness for Eggsy that was entirely inappropriate. He was not shocked at the things Eggsy had said, but shocked at the way they made him feel. It was a nice feeling that Eggsy was so fiercely defensive of him. Of him and Percival. “Barely half an hour,” he said, and chuckled. “That's a new record.” 

“I'm always happy to help,” Eggsy said. “Like I said, I'm a fucking delight.” 

“Yes you are,” Harry said. He looked at Eggsy, and didn't like what he saw at all. A young man, smiling at him as if he was the most amazing person in the world. He especially didn't like that he suddenly realised he felt the same way about him. 

****

He didn't sleep well that night. While visits from his parents always left him feeling sad, there was something else in there as well, some other emotion that made sleeping impossible. He was falling in love. With a man half his age. A man who had his entire life ahead of him. 

It was so foolish of him to feel this way. But he had seen the way Eggsy looked at him, and it made him feel guilty. He was taking away Eggsy's chance of happiness. Eggsy was here all day, every day, when he should be out partying with his friends. He should go back to school, or find a normal job, and meet people his own age. He should kiss pretty girls and wake up next to strangers, and not regret a moment of his life. He should fall in love with some bloke and get his heart broken more than once. He should live, instead of wasting away his time with some infatuation with an old, crippled, bitter man. He deserved better. So much better.

It was not the entire reason why Harry felt guilty. Not just that Eggsy was young, and beautiful, and funny and amazing. It was because Percival had been all of those things, and Harry had never fallen out of love with him. No one could replace Percival. Even if him and Eggsy would… even the thought of it was absurd, but he forced himself to think it: even if they would get together, Eggsy would always be his second choice. 

Yes, Eggsy deserved better, much better. If he even felt this way at all. Was it not just the imagination of an old fool? Did Eggsy not behave this way with everyone? 

Harry could not stop thinking about Eggsy, and his parents, and Percival…

Especially Percival.

He remembered everything about their first kiss. Harry had taken a picture of Percival standing on top of the Berlin wall, looking at the thousands of people gathered there. It was a moment he would never forget, and never experience ever again. Percival had extended his hand, and pulled Harry up, so he could take in the view as well. On top of the wall, on top of this piece of history, where war and peace, past and future, and fear and hope collided, Percival had looked at him and smiled in a way he had never smiled before. Completely free. Full of hope. Full of love. That was the moment that Harry had first allowed himself to feel the butterflies he had tried to ignore for the past weeks, which he felt every time he looked at his colleague. It was the first time he allowed himself to hope. 

They had gone home in the morning, and toasted to the future. And then Percy had smiled, and seemed shy for the first time. This man, who was not afraid of anything, had hesitated for a moment, and then thrown caution at the wind and put his arms around Harry's shoulders. Looking him in the eyes, he had pulled Harry closer, and whispered “To the future” the same words he had said a minute ago, but now they didn't apply to the world, but to them, only them, and both of them were drunk on happiness, filled with the euphoria of the Wall coming down, and Harry had never felt more happy than when Percival's lips finally touched his, and it was not in his mind, it was real. 

Now, alone in his bed in London, Harry cried silent tears. Percival was never coming back. And no one could replace him. Harry couldn't allow that to happen. 

He didn't want to.

He had known it would come to this, hadn't he? He had known for years. A calmness came over him, the same kind he had felt when he thought he was going to die, that evening in France when he got seperated from Percy during a mission. There had been no way out, there had been nothing he could do to survive that night. He had been trapped, and in that moment only one thought counted. _At least Percy is okay_. 

And then he had heard Percival shout from the room next to his, “I LOVE YOU HARRY, RUN!”, and before he realised what that meant, he had heard the explosion and where the room next to him had been, there were only ashes, and instead of a wall, he looked at the beautiful night sky and knew he would survive. And in that moment, all he wanted was to die, because Percival had made the ultimate sacrifice, and he could never repay him. 

Harry didn't believe in heaven, or some other sort of afterlife. He didn't expect to be reunited with Percival. But at least he could make sure they would no longer be apart. 

****

The next morning, he received an email from Merlin, about Lee Unwin. He read it, read it again, and decided to tell Eggsy this afternoon. It would be the last day of their time together, but Eggsy didn't know that yet. 

And it was partly up to Merlin to make sure he would not find out the reason. 

Harry wrote an email to Merlin, and used a program Merlin had developed to set it on a timer. It would be sent to Merlin at four in the morning. It hurt to know that Merlin would wake up to that in the middle of the night, but Harry needed to be sure that Merlin would call Eggsy before the young man would show up at his house, expecting to find him alive. 

Eggsy knocked on his door now, and poked his head around the door with a cheeky grin. “I've bought croissants on the way over here. Come on, sleepy head, get in the shower. I'm hungry!” 

Harry grinned at him. It was important he seemed normal today. Eggsy always saw through him, and today Harry could not afford that. “I think I'll stay in for another hour or two.” he said, and closed his eyes. He heard Eggsy groan from the doorway. 

“Not funny, bruv.” 

Harry opened his eyes and pushed himself up. “I personally thought it was hilarious.” He got into his wheelchair with some difficulty, but didn't mind it. It was the last time. Nothing could hurt him now. 

****

Giving Harry a shave took much less time now than it had at the start. “I should try to shave patterns into your beard next time. Maybe I'll become a barber one day. And you'll be a fashion-icon, with a twirly beard and a mohawk.” 

Harry seemed amused by the idea. “And I'll get a discount for being your muse.” 

“Of course!” He wiped away a bit of shaving cream, and put the razor on the sink for a moment to admire his handiwork. “Looking as smooth as a baby's bottom.” 

“Jee, thanks.” Harry said. “Hey, could you get a book from my bedroom? It's called 'Play the Piano Drunk Like a Percussion Instrument Until the Fingers Begin to Bleed a Bit'. I think it's somewhere on the right hand side of the bookshelf.” 

Eggsy burst into laughter. “You taking the piss?” 

“No, I really think it's somewhere on the right.” Harry said dryly.

Eggsy facepalmed. “Obviously, I meant the title. You just made that up, didn't you?” 

Harry smirked. “I swear it's there. Feel free to laugh at me if I got it wrong.” 

Eggsy chuckled and went to the bedroom. While skimming over the titles of the books on the shelf, he said, loudly enough that Harry would be able to hear it “I looked up that song you mentioned, by the way. Movement such-and-such by Beethoven.” Where was the damn book? Harry _was_ taking the piss.

“Did you know it?” Harry shouted back. His voice echoed along the tiled walls of the bathroom. 

“Sadly, yes. You were right, I was wrong.” He was done reading all titles at the right side of the shelf. He started again, this time at the left. 

Harry appeared in the doorway. “Have you found it?” 

“Nope,” Eggsy stood with his face to the bookshelf, reading every title, looking for the word Piano. Finally, he found it, standing next to a boxset of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. “That's the LEFT Harry.” he said, took the book, and turned around. 

Harry was waiting next to the bed, instead of by the door. He peered up. “Ah, thank you. I've been meaning to read this for ages.” 

Eggsy looked at the title again. “Charles Bukowski?” he said, sounding exasperated. “Of course it is! Hasn't seen fucking Star Wars, but reads poetry by Charles fucking Bukowski!” He winked at Harry. “Bloody show-off.” He loved that about Harry, the constant contrast between the stereotypical intellectual gentleman, and the incredibly juvenile, funny man, who used his dead dog to scare people and quoted Downton Abbey at him. 

Harry just smiled. He really seemed to be in a good mood today. It made Eggsy happier than he liked to admit.

****

Eggsy was doing the dishes after dinner, when Harry said from the living room “It's going to pour later. If you go home within half an hour, you might get home before it starts.” 

“Are you sure? It's a bit early to go to bed, isn't it?” Eggsy came into the living room, still drying a plate. 

“I don't mind,” Harry said. “I have my poetry by Charles fucking Bukowski.” 

“Okay, if you say so,” Eggsy said. It was just after seven. He finished the dishes, and then helped Harry upstairs. Something was bothering him. It had started that afternoon, when he cleaned the upstairs bathroom. It was eating at him, he was certain that something was wrong, but he couldn't figure out what it was. He waited until Harry had brushed his teeth, then he opened his buttons and stayed until Harry was on his bed. 

Harry could take off his clothes himself later. “Oh, Eggsy!” he said, apparently just remembering something. “God, I meant to tell you this before dinner. Merlin sent me an email this afternoon. Sit down for a moment, would you?” 

Eggsy looked at him in surprise. What could this possibly be about? He sat down on the edge of the bed. 

Harry gave him an apologetic look. “I'm sorry to spring this on you, and also that I only thought about it now, but ehm...” he bit his lip. 

Eggsy had never seen him this nervous. The bad feeling was getting worse.

“Remember when you told me about your dad? And you said that you were never told how he… how he died?” 

Eggsy nodded. The feeling in his chest changed from worry to terrifying anticipation. What had Merlin found out?

“Obviously, I'm not actually allowed to tell you this. Hell, I shouldn't even know this, but I thought that… that you deserved to know. I asked Merlin to find out what had happened, and apparently...” he smiled, a wide, relieved smile, and the knot in Eggsy's stomach loosened a bit. “He was in training for MI6.” 

Eggsy's jaw dropped. A grin started to spread on his face. “Really?” 

Harry nodded. “That's why they couldn't tell you. He was supposedly in the marines, but in reality he was MI6. While in training, his unit went abroad, where a hostage situation was taking place. Your dad's unit went in, and resolved the situation. But while questioning a suspect, everyone missed the fact that the suspect had a grenade.” 

Eggsy nodded, wanting Harry to continue. 

“Your dad was the first -or only- person to spot it, and jumped onto the subject, absorbing most of the blow. He saved the lives of seven people that day. He died a hero, Eggsy.” 

Eggsy tugged as his lip softly. A hero. His dad was a hero. He smiled, with tears in his eyes. “Thank you, Harry!” he said, and threw his arms around Harry. “Thank you so much!” 

Harry patted his back awkwardly, and chuckled. “You're welcome, Eggsy.” he said softly. 

Eggsy pulled back. “Can I tell my mum that?” 

Harry shrugged. “I don't care what MI6 wants. So yes, you can and you should.” 

Eggsy jumped up. “God, this is… God, I don't know! This is great, really! Thank you Harry, that is… fuck, that's the most amazing news I've ever had!” He couldn't wait to tell his mum. He had no clue how to tell her, or how he would explain why he knew it, but he'd find a way. “Is there anything else you need?” 

Harry shook his head.

“Okay, then I'm gonna run before the rain starts.” He went to the door, and said it once again. “Thank you Harry, really!” 

“You're welcome. Sleep well.” 

“Sleep well. I'll see you tomorrow.” 

“Goodbye, Eggsy.” Harry said softly, and Eggsy closed the door. 

****

He felt like he was floating. For years, he had wondered how it had happened, and part of him had always feared that Lee had simply made a mistake that turned out to be fatal. But this… this was amazing. His mum would be so happy when he told her. She found it difficult to talk about Lee, and he suspected that was partly because she had the same worries as him, that his death had been unnecessary. 

He couldn't wait to see her face when he told her, and he couldn't wait to tell Harry about her reaction. It was so sweet of him to have done this, to ask Merlin to look into it. Eggsy was getting used to the butterflies he felt when he thought of Harry. Tomorrow, before he would help Harry shave, he would hopefully have a good story to tell him about his mu-

He froze in his tracks. The horrible feeling that had haunted him all day came crashing back when a terrible realisation hit him. _The razor_. It hadn't been there anymore when he cleaned the bathroom. 

He turned around, and started running, running faster than he ever had, as if his life depended on it, and it did. 

****

Merlin answered his phone with a bad feeling. Why would Eggsy call him?

“MERLIN!” It sounded as if Eggsy was running. “I… think… he's… GOD!…” For a moment, Merlin heard the boy's footsteps louder, as if he had moved the phone from his ear for a moment, probably to not lose balance. He spoke the words in line with his breaths. He was running. “Harry is… killing… himself.” 

Merlin tensed up. No. Oh God, no! “Where are you?” he asked sharply. 

“Almost… there!” Eggsy said. He sounded panicked. 

“I'll be there in fifteen minutes, with a blood bag.” 

Eggsy didn't comment on how strange it was that Merlin would have such thing, he was probably too upset to even notice it. “Yes!” he simply said, and hung up.

Merlin ran to the parking lot, to the taxi's that were parked there. Every taxi had a bloodbag of every type in it, just in case something happened to a Kingsman while on the road. These bags had saved many lives over the years. Hopefully, they could save one more. 

****

Every muscle in his body burned when he unlocked the front door with shaking hands, and ran up the stairs. “HARRY!” he shouted, and the lack of answer confirmed the worst. He pulled open the bedroom door, stumbled in, and almost broke down. 

Blood.

So much blood. 

“Harry,” he whispered, shaking Harry's shoulder. Harry was unnaturally pale. That quickly? How long had he been gone? Ten minutes? Fifteen? Harry's eyes were closed, but he was still breathing. The covers were tainted red with his blood. The razor had fallen to the ground.

Eggsy ran to the bathroom, throwing everything out of the cabinet there as he took the first aid kit from the top shelf. What had he learned in the marines, what had he been taught about blood loss? Open wounds, something about open wounds, some big mistake everyone made… Fuck, what was it?

He remembered. Putting something dry on a wound made the blood rush out faster, since it got soaked up. He held the roll of bandages under the tap for a few seconds, ran back to Harry's bedroom, and took a deep breath. His heart was racing like never before as he took Harry's hand and turned it with the palm upwards, revealing a long gash from elbow to wrist. He started putting the bandage around it at the wrist, working his way up 'towards the heart' as he had been taught. 

His mobile rang, and he answered it immediately, knowing it could only be Merlin. “I have bandaged him, but he's lost a lot of-” his voice broke. He hadn't noticed he had been crying. 

Harry made a soft sound, heartbreaking in its fragility.

“I'm stuck!” Merlin said. He sounded angry and scared. “Fifteen minutes! Is he gonna make that?” 

“I don't know!” Eggsy shouted. He didn't know anything. 

“Talk to him! Make him talk!” Merlin said, and hung up. 

“Harry!” Eggsy said. 

Harry made that sound again. Then he opened his eyes, slowly, as if looking at bright light. His forehead was covered in sweat, as if he had a fever. He looked fragile and broken but was still alive. He whispered something. 

Eggsy leaned down, put his ear next to Harry's mouth, hoped Harry would have the strength to say it again, because they might be his last-

“Tell me a story,” Harry whispered.

“About what?” Eggsy asked in a panic. Time seemed to not exist anymore. London did not exist anymore. Only the two of them were still real, the two of them on a bloodied bed. 

“The future.” 

So Eggsy told him. He told him that one day Eggsy would bring flowers and Harry would make a snarky remark, and Eggsy would laugh about it because he knew that underneath that bitterness, there was kindness. And the flowers would become a regular thing, and the comments would turn into cheerful banter, and they would laugh together about things the florist had said. And when winter came, they would sit on the couch -Yes Harry, even you- with a blanket around them even though it wasn't that cold and Eggsy would move in closer and closer until Harry had to remind him he didn't feel Eggsy sitting on his lap but Eggsy would grin and say 'but I do' and then suddenly they would lock eyes and everything else would just stop and they would kiss. And Harry would meet Michelle and she would be worried at first, intimidated by his glamour, and Daisy would love him immediately because he made a lame joke which made Eggsy roll his eyes and when her brother was happy she was happy, that was just the way it was. 

Eggsy rambled on, looking at Harry all the while, making sure he was still there, somewhere, deep down. He talked about them going outside despite the snow, even though Harry didn't want to, and how the wheels would get stuck in the snow, until Eggsy gave up and drove the car around and tied Harry' s chair to the car to pull him free. And how Merlin would find out because Merlin always found out and he would be worried and angry and eventually he would laugh about it and tell Eggsy he would fire him but he wouldn't. And they would have a dog, a pug called Mr Eggplant, which would have a grow-spurt someday, and turn out not to be a pug at all, not a bulldog either, a great Dane, and it would be as big as Harry when it sat down. 

_Harry's eyes were closed, he was still breathing, where the hell was Merlin how could it take so bloody long?_

And they would get married. Harry would not propose because he couldn't go down on one knee so he would refuse to do it, but Eggsy would find the ring someday when he was cleaning the bedside table and he would understand and take the ring downstairs and propose to Harry and Harry would say no. Eggsy would be heartbroken but not leave Harry's side, and a few days later he would propose again, the stubborn fool, and Harry would say 'yes' with so much conviction that Eggsy was sure the first time had just been in his mind. 

They would buy nice suits and the official would judge them because Eggsy wore his sneakers, and Merlin's best man speech was short and filled with casual abuse and he would call them idiots ten times but he'd be happy for them nonetheless. Roxy would sneak out with every hot chick there and get laid even before the night sky got dark enough to see the stars. 

_Where was Merlin, how long had he been talking? A lifetime, what took so long?_

They would move to a different house, and they would have dogs, too many to really fit their house, and a rabbit because Daisy insisted. And all the animals would be named after food, Mrs Basil, Mr Ginger, Mr Camembert. The house would be level, even if Eggsy had to take a freaking demolition ball to the stairs, he would never haul Harry up and down in a suicide-homicide mission again. 

They would grow old, so old that Eggsy started to see the level floor as a blessing, not just for Harry but for himself, because his legs were too heavy to lift them so he just shuffled through the house, content as could be.

_Merlin wasn't going to make it. There was no time._

“We'll be happy,” he said to Harry's unmoving body, “so bloody happy.” He took Harry's hand and dragged it over his own shoulders, lifted him in a firemen-carry and started walking down the stairs. A thought crossed his mind, so absurd that he almost laughed, that this was incredibly dangerous. Danger wasn't relevant anymore. Nothing was relevant anymore. Just Harry.

Eggsy went down the stairs as fast as he could. “SO bloody happy” he repeated, a mantra, a truth he had to tell himself over and over again as he left the chair behind and walked outside, through the biting cold. He opened the car door “So happy we won't know what to do with it”, lowered Harry gently and put him in the passenger seat. “Incredibly happy,” he whispered, with his lips to Harry's ear, the words meant for him and not the cold, cruel outside world. 

He ran around the car and got in, he didn't care if he had his licence on him, nothing mattered but Harry, Harry, Harry. Harry who wasn't moving, but was still breathing, barely hanging on to what was left of him. 

Eggsy stepped on the gas and they sped off, he swerved through traffic and abused his horn, didn't bother with blinkers or speedlimits. “We'll be happy,” he mumbled, “won't we, Harry?” 

Harry didn't respond. His head had sunk between his shoulders, it looked uncomfortable but Eggsy didn't dare take a clammy hand off the steering wheel to lift his head. 

“If I run us into a wall, Merlin will behead me,” he said, and he wondered for whose benefit he made that joke. He honked at someone who was only going ten over the speedlimit, yelled “Fuck you!” as he passed them and the driver flipped him off. Suddenly, he heard sirens, and he realised they must have been there for quite some time, tailing him in this frantic race to salvation. He ignored them, they didn't matter. 

“We'll have a daughter,” he said. “Daisy might have a shitbag for a father, but she'll have us as her real fathers. And she'll be able to look at the pictures on the wall and know that Percival loves her too, he is looking out for her just as much as he's looking out for us. You hear that, Harry? She'll be loved by us, the three of us, and we'll never let her forget it, and you'll teach me how to let anyone who gives her a wrong look disappear. We'll walk her down the aisle, you and me.” He was crying now. “You and me Harry. You and...” his voice broke. 

The cops were tailing him, he wanted to scream at them to leave him alone, but he had no voice left. He had no words left. He had poured his heart out and was left with nothing but emptiness, the kind of emptiness he had not expected to feel, not yet, not until Harry… But he could not allow himself to think that way, he could not allow himself to slow down. Harry needed him. 

He saw the hospital in the distance, drove the last bit over the shoulder of the road, ignored people honking angrily at him and manoeuvred onto the lane exclusively meant for ambulances. It was deserted anyway. His tires screeched as he came to a stop in front of the hospital, he was out of the car and at Harry's side within a second and realised he must not have worn his seatbelt, then he was lifting Harry out of the car and suddenly, miraculously, like angels sent down from heaven, two nurses were there with a stretcher, they helped him lift Harry onto it and wheeled him away. Eggsy ran after them. He wouldn't leave Harry's side ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning:
> 
> In this chapter, there is a suicide attempt. It is not written in POV, but that person is found, so there is a bit of the aftermath, again not in POV.
> 
> Spoiler behind the blanks:
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> Harry tries to commit suicide, but he survives. In the following chapter, it will be dealt with more. I try to be as respectful as possible about this, what I mean by that is that it will not be ignored, and there will be no magical-love-cures-everything kind of bullshit. I hope these warnings were enough, if not PLEASE LET ME KNOW, so I can change my warnings/tags/whatever to better warn people! I don't mean to trigger anyone, so if anything needs changing, please tell me.


	7. Chapter 7

Merlin wouldn't make it on time. He called Eggsy, but he didn't answer. Merlin realised that could only mean one thing, that Eggsy had left with Harry, so he pulled up the whereabouts of the van on his phone. It had been a Kingsman vehicle once. Sadly without the medical equipment now. And it was moving. “Yes, Eggsy!” he shouted in relief. Judging by the speed, they might just make it. 

He called the hospital to say that within ten minutes a gravely injured man would arrive, and that they should have people at the ready to meet him. He hung up without saying his name. 

Swearing at the slow-moving cars around him, Merlin kept an eye on the little dot on his mobile, and took the first exit he could. His destination had changed, from Harry's house to the hospital. And so had his goal: instead of racing to save his friends life, he was determined to be there on time to either offer support to Eggsy while they waited for Harry to regain consciousness or -and he hated the thought- to say goodbye to Harry before he passed away. 

****

Eggsy ran after the nurses, until a voice screamed for him to stop. He turned around to see two cops, who approached him with very angry expressions on their face. _Fuck! Not now!_ It made Eggsy angry, so very angry that they could do this, despite having just seen why he was speeding. He was relieved Harry had made it, that they were there, but he was also angry, and scared, and heartbroken and nothing mattered anymore and he clenched his fists and screamed “What you gon do, bloody arrest me?”

****

Merlin arrived just in time to see two cops slam Eggsy down on the hood of their car and handcuff him. There was blood on Eggsy's sleeves, the sight of which made Merlin's chest hurt. 

Eggsy looked up when Merlin got out of his car. “Merlin!” he screamed. “Merlin! Just let me know if he makes it!” 

“I will!” Merlin shouted back, and ran into the hospital. He would get Eggsy out later, but right now nothing mattered but Harry. The nurses were out of sight, so he went up to the reception, and immediately got into a heated argument with the man on duty. The receptionist claimed that there was no mention of a patient called 'Hart' having been brought in and that it could take at least half an hour before new patients showed up on the record. And anyway, he was not allowed to tell someone who was not family. Merlin asked him if he could at least tell him once Harry's name showed up, but the receptionist repeated he was not allowed to do that. 

_Fine_ , Merlin thought. _I'll look it up myself then_. He sat down in some random hallway close to the ICU, figuring that was the most likely place for Harry to be, and hacked the hospital's server. The last mention of Harry was from a check-up from over a year ago. He kept the tab with Harry's medical dossier open, and hacked into the police's server next. Depending on what they would charge Eggsy with, he would have to arrange certain things. And he needed to find a way to let Eggsy know how Harry was doing as soon as he had figured that out himself.

****

Eggsy sat in the police car, with his hands handcuffed behind his back. The policemen had thought he was 'resisting arrest', and had slammed him down on the hood of the car to handcuff him. Bloody pigs. It knocked the wind out of him, but he didn't mind the pain, he only minded the smug look on the men's faces when they put him in the car, and the fact that he was worried sick about Harry and it could take hours before he would be able to know if he would survive. The last glimpse he saw of Harry, just before the nurses disappeared into the hospital with him, didn't look good at all. Harry was pale, and his body was limp, and every nerve in Eggsy's body screamed for a chance to be there for him. Eggsy's breaths were deep and fast, in a kind of panic he had never felt before. 

_How much blood did he lose? How much blood can a grown man lose before it's fatal? He was conscious when I got to him. But later… he didn't respond anymore. Was he breathing when the nurses took him away?_

He didn't remember all of the things he had said to Harry during their drive, but he did know that he had meant everything, and that everything he had said about the future had made him more sad about the possibility that this future wouldn't exist. He tried to breathe slowly, but kept thinking about the blood on the sheets, on the mattress, on the razor… the razor he had bought for Harry. The razor he so foolishly left on the edge of the sink. The simple mistake he realised the significance of way too late. It was his fault. If Harry died. His fault. He had given him the weapon. He had allowed this to happen. It was his fault, his fault, his fault. Another thought tried to drown out this terrible one.

 _We'll be happy._ The words kept repeating in his mind, like a broken record, and kept punching his heart every time they replayed in his thoughts. How many more bruises could these words inflict on his heart? That was how he felt; broken, bruised, but not without hope. 

Harry would make it, he would make it, if Eggsy simply hoped it hard enough it would happen. 

_We'll be happy. We'll be happy. He will make it. We'll be happy._

****

“Speeding, stealing a car, driving without licence,” the policeman listed monotonously. He gave Eggsy a look that seemed to say 'what have you got to say about that?'. 

A lot. Eggsy had a lot to say about that. Or rather, to scream. “Maybe you didn't bloody notice this, but there was a person DYING in my car! There wasn't exactly much time to get him to the hospital, was there?! And I have a bloody licence, but it's at home. I didn't expect that I would need to drive! And I didn't steal the bloody car, it's Harry's!” He'd explained this already. They had taken off the handcuffs, but treated him like a bloody criminal nonetheless. He was sitting across one of the arresting officers in a small, brightly lit interrogation room, and the officer was bored, accusatory, and deliberately slow. 

“Harry, as in 'Harold Hart', the man who lives at that address?” 

_No, another Harry, Jesus Christ._ “Yes, that Harry!” 

“It is his van?” 

“Yes!” How bloody hard had his explanation been?

“Why would a cripple own a van?” 

Eggsy jumped up and slammed his fists down in the table. “What the fuck did you just call him?!”  
A second later, the other cop was back, and slammed him against the table. Eggsy didn't struggle, but while they were handcuffing him, he kept screaming against the one that had asked the question. “Don't fucking call him a fucking cripple you bloody piece of fucking shit! How fucking dare you! He's not a fucking cripple!” If he had looked up in that moment, he would have seen the light of the camera stop for just a fraction of a second, before the camera turned on again.

“Just answer the questions, you'll only make it worse,” the second cop said, and waited until Eggsy had sat down again. Then he said something to the other cop, and while he said it softly, Eggsy could understand what he said “It's called 'disabled' now.” 

Eggsy was seething with rage, but tried to keep it bottled up. There was no use in causing a scene, it would only make him have to be here longer. And he desperately wanted to see Harry, as soon as possible. He had to keep himself under control, no matter how much of a dick the cops were to him. He inhaled slowly, and said “Harry owns a van, so he can go places. Like any other person. He simply doesn't drive himself, for obvious reasons. I did not steal his van. He is my employer, like I said at the very start of this goddamn interrogation. I also told you why I didn't have my drivers licence on me.” He clenched his fist for a moment, to keep himself from breaking down. “Can you now please tell me how he's doing?” 

The cop narrowed his eyes a bit, then he shrugged. “I don't know that.” He turned back to the paperwork in front of him. “We will check your story with mister Hart if possible.” 

_If he survives._ That was what he was really saying. Eggsy felt tears well up again, but tried to keep it together. The sooner this was over, the sooner he'd be able to see Harry. If Harry was still alive…

“You have prior convictions for theft, attempted burglary, vandalism, and -hey! Look at that!- the stealing of a car.” 

Eggsy hated his past dragged up like this. He was not that person anymore. And Rottweiler was a dick for pressing charges. He'd gotten the car back in one piece, hadn't he? “Can I make a call?” He just hoped he remembered Merlin's number correctly. His mobile phone had not been in his pocket anymore when the cops searched him. Maybe it was in the car. Or he'd dropped it in Harry's bedroom. He did still have both keys, for the house and the van. 

“Sure. Make it quick.” The cop said, and left the room. 

Eggsy closes his eyes, trying to picture the number. But he had only called it once in his life, in the most scary and rushed moment, so he was almost certain he'd get it wrong. He was about to pick up the phone nonetheless, when it started ringing, startling him. He stared at it for a moment, then he picked up without saying a word. 

“Eggsy!” someone said. 

“M- Merlin?!” How? 

“Yes. Harry was still alive when they brought him in, he's in the ICU, and he's been hooked up to a blood transfusion and painkillers. That's all the info I have at the moment, but it looks promising.” 

_Thank God. He'll make it._ Eggsy hadn't expected that he would one day be so relieved that it would feel as if his heart would burst open. But Harry would make it, and everything would be okay. 

Merlin sounded rushed and distracted, as if he was doing something else while talking to Eggsy. 

Eggsy was glad Merlin didn't waste any words, and had just gotten to the point immediately. “Thank you!” he said. The words came out as sobs. He couldn't remember the last time he'd cried before he met Harry, and now he was blubbering so often it almost became a habit. 

“I'll send someone to come pick you up. He will pretend to be your step-dad, so just call him Dean. He will have a ID-card confirming his story. He'll bring you here.” 

Jesus, Merlin certainly was very efficient. Eggsy's sobs turned into surprised laughter at the absurdity of this whole situation. 

“Try not to yell at the cops again, they don't like it at all.” 

Eggsy was puzzled for a moment, then he looked up at the camera and grinned. “You are amazing.” he said. 

Merlin was silent for a moment. Then he said “Tristan will be there in a few minutes. Call him Dean. I'll see you later.” He hung up before Eggsy could say anything else. 

****

Tristan looked like an accountant. Eggsy wasn't sure if that was a deliberate choice or that he always wore a nice suit and perfectly polished shoes, but he was glad that it gave the man an air of respectability. He had to be in his forties, with blond, neatly combed hair, and he greeted Eggsy with the cold detachment of a severely disappointed step-dad. “Hello Gary. Your mother and I are very disappointed in you.” 

“I'm sorry,” Eggsy mumbled. 

Tristan put his hand on his shoulder and looked at the cop that had brought him in. “No matter the circumstances, there is no excuse for speeding. Gary will get a talking to once he's home, I can tell you that.” 

The cop nodded. He seemed impressed by Tristan's confidence and style. 

“But we are also very proud of him,” Tristan continued. “His actions saved his employers life.” He squeezes Eggsy's shoulder. “Still, we will talk about this at home. Your mum has some choice words to say to you. She couldn't handle the shame of picking you up. Again.” 

Eggsy nodded, biting the inside of his cheek nervously. He wanted to see Harry. Now. 

Tristan let go of Eggsy's shoulder and took a step towards the door. He motioned at Eggsy to follow him. “I'm very sorry about this, officers. It will not happen again.” 

The officers nodded at him, Eggsy mumbled an apology, and two minutes later he got into a car with Tristan. It surprised Eggsy that it was dark outside; it felt like he had been in the police station all night, when actually it was not even half past ten. Tristan drove slowly until they were out of sight of the police station, and then stepped on the gas. 

“Thank you… Tristan.” Eggsy said. He had to have been a co-worker of Harry's. He had the right age for it, and the obvious Arthurian legend-themed codename was a dead giveaway. 

Tristan looked at him for a moment, and said “Anything for the man who saved Harry's life.” 

****

Merlin got up from his chair when he saw Eggsy run towards him, slipping a bit on the linoleum floor. 

Eggsy didn't slow down, he just let himself crash into Merlin and put his arms around him, sobbing a thank you into his shoulder. “He'll make it, right?” he asked, wiping his nose on his sleeve, ignoring the blood – Harry's blood. 

“It looks like it.” Merlin said and tried to give Eggsy an encouraging smile, but his face was frozen in a worried frown, like it had been for the past few hours, ever since he got the call. 

Eggsy seemed to deflate a bit when Merlin said that. He nodded, rubbing his face with his hands. There was no blood on his hands. Merlin was glad that the policemen had apparently been considerate enough to let him wash it off. “Can I go see him?” Eggsy asked, and the hope in his voice made Merlin's heart break a little more. 

“I'm sorry, Eggsy. They won't let anyone in who isn't family.” 

Eggsy clenched his fist, and pressed his lips together. He nodded. “Bunch of cunts,” he mumbled. He sat down on the chair next to the one Merlin had been sitting on. 

Merlin felt like he needed to say something, but he didn't know what. There was nothing he could tell Eggsy about Harry beyond what he'd said already. And he didn't want to bring up Tristan, out of fear that Eggsy would ask how they knew each other. It had been such a relief that Eggsy hadn't asked about the bloodbag. He couldn't tell Eggsy about Kingsman. 

For a few minutes, they simply sat there in silence. Merlin noticed that Eggsy was staring down at his sleeves, but neither of them mentioned it. Eventually, Merlin said “They won't let anyone in tonight. You should go home, Eggsy. So should I. Visiting hour is tomorrow at ten. If he's awake, you'll be able to see him.” 

Eggsy nodded, but didn't seem to really listen to what Merlin was saying. There were tears welling up in his eyes. “It's my fault.” he said. His voice sounded frail and broken, but he said the words confidently, as if he had practised them in his head. 

Merlin looked at him sharply. What did he mean? Why was he blaming himself? What had he done or said to Harry? Merlin tried to keep judgement out of his voice when he asked “In what way?” 

Eggsy exhaled shakily. “A few weeks ago...” he cleared his throat and shook his head, staring at the floor in front of him. “Harry said that his razors… that he needed a straight razor. And I… I bought them for him.” he paused for a moment and rubbed his eyes. He looked exhausted. “I didn't know he would...” he started sobbing again. 

Merlin swallowed with difficulty. There was a lump in his throat. _Oh Harry_ , he thought. _You had it planned all along. You've known for weeks. And we didn't see it_. 

****

“Eggsy… you are not responsible for the actions of a grown man. Harry did this, not you-” 

Eggsy interrupted him. He was angry, not at Merlin, but at himself. “But I enabled it! And I'm so fucking…” he shook his head. “How could I not have known he felt like this?” His eyes were wide open, red-rimmed and filled with tears. It was only now that he sat here in the white halls of the hospital, and knew that Harry would live, that he was starting to piece it all together. “Yesterday we were making jokes about all kinds of things, and then I left the razor on the sink and I didn't even realise cause I never would have thought he wanted to… that he wanted to die.” He gasped, and exhaled slowly, trying to calm himself down. “And he must've wanted it since this morning, cause he asked me to get something from the bedroom, and he must have taken the razor at that moment and hidden it next to the mattress.” 

Merlin looked heartbroken, and Eggsy knew he was blaming himself just as much as Eggsy did. But Merlin did it for different reasons. He felt guilty because he knew that none of the older, qualified caretakers would have bought the razor. None of them would have fallen for that. And Merlin had agreed to hire Eggsy. A near fatal mistake. He needed to know why.

“Why did you even hire me?” he asked. Harry had probably never told Merlin about their falling out, so Merlin didn't know that Eggsy knew Harry's reasons. 

Merlin hesitated for a moment, and Eggsy knew it was because he didn't want to hurt his feelings. 

“Just be honest. I can take it.” After today, everything seemed unimportant. 

Merlin nodded. He looked terribly sorry. “Everyone I interviewed that day was more qualified than you. All of them could have made Harry's life easier, like they were supposed to. And I knew that Harry would hate each and every one of them for being boring. He would despise his carer, but they would do their job, and they would do it well. Harry would stay in that house, filled with… memories.” 

“Memories of Percival.” Eggsy said softly.

Merlin looked surprised that he knew that, but nodded. “Of Percival. And then you came along. Unqualified, rude, a true pain in the ass.” he smirked a little, the first time the whole night that his expression wasn't one of grim worry. It faded immediately. “Harry was laughing his ass of during our interview. He was listening in, as I'm sure you've gathered by now. And he knew how much you annoyed me, so of course he picked you. And I thought to myself, this boy is terrible. Harry will think it's funny at first, because I disliked you, but soon he'll find out how terrible it is to have someone around the house who doesn't know what he's doing. I was, I'm sorry to say, hoping that you'd make his life a living hell.” 

Eggsy almost smiled. Merlin had been right about that, at first. God, it seemed a lifetime ago that Harry and him had been hostile to each other. 

“I had hoped that he would find out that his house is the worst place to live. Harry is… he's living in the past.” 

No kidding. They were talking about a man who kept his dead dog in the loo. 

“I thought that he would finally realise that he should move somewhere else. And I thought that it might help him to… not to forget, but to put it behind him a bit. Percival's accident.” 

It made sense. Eggsy understood completely why Merlin would hope that. In a wheelchair friendly house, Harry would be able to live on his own, without help. 

“I know about Percival,” he said softly. “I know everything. Harry told me.” 

Merlin looked at him, and his expression was unreadable, but there was pain in it. “When?” 

Eggsy immediately realised why Merlin asked it. “Not today. Or yesterday. It was weeks ago.” 

Merlin nodded. “Jesus,” he said softly. He seemed lost in thought for a moment. Then he said “You should go home Eggsy. Really. Your mum must be worried. I will call you if there's any news.” 

“I don't know where my phone is.” Eggsy said. “It's probably in Harry's house. Should I bring back some of his stuff? Clothes?” 

Merlin nodded. “That would be great.” 

“Okay.” Eggsy looked down at his bloodied sleeves again. Then he got up. “I'll see you later.” He left, feeling like he was betraying Harry by leaving him behind.

****

 _I know everything_. What did Eggsy mean by that? Had Harry told him the story he had told his parents as well, that Percival had died in a car crash? Or did Eggsy mean _everything_ : Kingsman, Pelageya Gorbunova, the blast that had killed Percival? 

Merlin wanted Eggsy gone, not because he blamed Eggsy for what had happened, but because he needed time alone. And Eggsy didn't know it yet, but so did he. They both needed to think about this, about everything it meant. He understood why Eggsy wanted to see Harry as soon as possible, and so did he, but he didn't want Eggsy to see Harry just yet. Eggsy didn't know this, or perhaps he did, but Merlin had been in a situation similar to this one before. When Harry was shot in the spine, Merlin had been waiting in the hallway as well, barely allowing himself to hope that Harry would make it. He knew how desperate Eggsy wanted to talk to Harry, but he knew it might not go the way Eggsy hoped. 

Merlin would always remember the first words Harry said to him after he woke up, when Merlin stormed into the hospital room even if he was not allowed to be there, embraced Harry as much as the position would allow and said “I'm so glad you are alive.” 

Harry had not blinked when he said his reply, he had looked at Merlin with heartbreaking sincerity and said “I'm not.”

****

Harry had woken up in hospitals so often that he didn't need to open his eyes to know he was in one. All hospitals smelled the same, and while he wasn't sure which one he was in, or how he got there, it didn't matter. 

He was not where he wanted to be. 

He still existed. 

That was not what he'd hoped. He kept his eyes closed, knowing that someone -nurse, friend, doctor- would want to speak to him as soon as they knew he was awake. 

He didn't want to talk to anyone. He never wanted to speak, think, or be, ever again. 

_We'll be happy._ Where did that come from? Whose voice was echoing along the walls of the room? _We'll be happy._ Why did he almost believe them? He didn't open his eyes. He tried not to think. And he tried not to listen to the voice that kept repeating the words over and over, until he realised it was his own voice, his own mind, his own thoughts. 

****

It had only been a few hours since Eggsy drove the van, but it felt like the first time. Unlocking the door to Harry's house felt strange as well, even though he did it every morning. Even though he had done it a few hours ago. He shivered just thinking about it. 

He'll make it, he reminded himself. He will. 

Eggsy went upstairs, but dreaded going into the bedroom. The door was open, but he couldn't bring himself to go in. The blood would still be there. The razor would still be there. 

The memories would haunt him forever. 

He turned around and sat down on the top of the stairs. The worst part was over, wasn't it? Harry was alive, he would make it. What did Eggsy have to fear? The room was just a room. 

He didn't know how long he had been sitting there, but eventually he got up and went into the bedroom, flipping the light switch with his eyes closed. He stood in the bedroom with his eyes shut for a moment, bracing himself for what he was about to see, and again reminded himself that there was nothing truly terrible about it, since Harry was safe. 

He opened his eyes. There was a big bloodstain on the mattress and on the covers. He could tell exactly where Harry's arm had been, he could see where he had moved the arm when he bandaged it, and he could see marks on the covers that were left by his own bloodied fingers when he lifted Harry's body and heaved it over his shoulders. Once again, he looked at the bloodied sleeves of his white shirt, then he took it off. The blood had seeped through, onto his skin. He went to the bathroom and washed the blood off. Looking into the mirror above the sink, he tried to imagine how Harry had felt that morning, when he decided to distract Eggsy and take the razor. He tried to understand, but he simply couldn't. 

Sadness was exhausting. Eggsy knew that. And he knew that he would never know it as well as Harry, who was living it. It was as if Harry only allowed himself to be sad with The Date approaching. The rest of the year he kept his sadness bottled up as much as he could, but it made its way out of him in the shape of anger and indifference. But Eggsy had seen the other side of Harry as well, the funny side, the happy side. Or had all of that been an act?

When he went back into Harry's bedroom, he opened his closet and took out a blue shirt, which he put on. Then he took out the suitcase that was standing under the many suits, and started putting clothes into it. He should probably bring something to distract Harry as well, a book or magazine. Something.

He walked over to the side Harry had slept on, to get the book Harry had asked him to grab that morning. It really seemed like a lifetime ago. He saw the book lying on the night stand, but there was a book on top of it, without a title, which Eggsy flipped open without even thinking about it. He just wanted to know what the title was, perhaps put it in the suitcase with the other stuff, and move it downstairs. But it wasn't a book. It was a diary. And in the split second it took Eggsy to realise that, one sentence caught his eye, one sentence only on a fully written on page. He closed the book immediately, wishing the words would just leave his brain, but he knew he'd never forget them. In Harry's neat handwriting, it said just seven words, and those words were enough to break Eggsy's heart: 

_Merlin still refuses to let me die._

Was that why he was really here? To act as a kind of babysitter? Was that why Merlin was fine with Harry living in this house, because it gave him an excuse to employ people there, who could keep an eye out? 

Merlin had known all along that Harry was suicidal, and hadn't mentioned it to Eggsy. Was that not something he ought to know? Was that why Merlin had asked if he had medical training? 

Fuck! How could Eggsy have been so naive? 

He remembered how Merlin had told them to not “get too attached” on the very first day they met. It had seemed offensive back then, like he had expected Eggsy to quit or Harry to fire him soon. But that was not what he meant. The reality had been much, much worse. 

His phone was lying on the mattress, he picked it up and called Roxy with shaking hands. He needed to talk to someone. Anyone. Anyone but Merlin. 

****

Roxy had barely closed the door behind them when Eggsy collapsed onto her bed and started crying his eyes out. He had explained on the way to her place what had happened. His head felt cloudy and he was probably not making a lot of sense but he managed to tell her that his boss had tried to kill himself and that he was in hospital now and would make it. 

“I just feel like.. it's my fault. I put the razor where he could reach it.” He mumbled the words into her pillow, which he was clutching to his chest.

“Eggsy,” she said, and sounded both sincere and a little angry “Did you cut his wrist open?” 

He knew what she was saying, of course, but it didn't work like that, did it? “No, but I-” 

“Then it's not your fucking fault!” 

In a way, he knew that, but that was not all. Another thought was pushing into his brain, and this thought was almost too horrible to say it out loud, but the needed to talk about it. He needed someone to know what was raging on inside his mind. “Was it cruel of me to save him?” the question sounded flat, and he didn't dare look at Roxy. “He is a grown man. Did I just… did I take away his choice? Should I...” should I have given him what he wanted? Death? 

Roxy took his hands, and tried to make him look at her. He kept his eyes closed. “Eggsy, sweetheart, listen. It was not HIS choice. It was depression's choice. Healthy men don't do this. There is something wrong in his brain, and that is okay.” 

Now he looked up at her. 

She was looking him in the eyes intently. “With the right medication, he can lead a happy life, okay? And he won't do this again, because depression told him there was no other way, and depression fucking lies! So they will figure out the right dose of meds, you're going to force them down his throat if you have to, and after a few weeks he won't understand himself why he wanted a oneway ticket to oblivion.” 

She made it sound so simple. And while Eggsy knew she meant it, and that she truly believed it, it wasn't like that. “He wanted to die, because his husband is dead.” 

Roxy shook her head. “If that's the reason, he would have done it years ago. Don't you think? Something changed within him, and that 'something' is the balance of chemicals in his brains that tell him life sucks. What is it what they say? Depression is a flaw in chemicals, not in character? Well, that's true. And once the balance is back, he will be back, the Harry you know.” She pulled him upright by his arm, and embraced him. “He'll be fine.” 

But what if that was not true? What if Harry resented him for saving him? Was this the end of their… working relationship? The end of their friendship? The end of the possibility for…

“I'm in love with him,” he said flatly, with his chin resting on her shoulder. He was glad she could not see his face.

She rubbed his back and kissed his cheek. “I know, Eggsy. I know.” He could feel her smile against his cheek. “I told you that you thought he was handsome. And you haven't been complaining about him lately, so obviously you've fallen in love with him. And why wouldn't you? It's great, Eggsy! You deserve happiness.” 

But he wouldn't find it with Harry. Or rather, Harry wouldn't find it with him.

“I need to go. I have some stuff to bring to the hospital.” 

“Do you want me to come with you?” She looked worried.

“No, they won't let anyone in anyway, so I can't see him today. I'll probably just drop off his stuff and then go home.” He could take Harry's van home. Or he'd just wait in the hospital, since he wouldn't get any sleep either way.

“Don't blame yourself, Eggsy. Please. Remember that you've done everything you could.” Roxy squeezed his hand. “Really.” 

“Thanks Rox,” he mumbled. He wanted to believe her, he really did. But he couldn't. 

****

He was back in the hospital at one o'clock. Merlin was still there, in the exact chair Eggsy had left him in. He sat down next to Merlin, and asked if there was any news. There wasn't, and they didn't speak for a long time. 

Eventually, Eggsy couldn't stand it anymore. “You knew Harry was suicidal.” he said. His words sounded casual, but he was suppressing an immense sadness and anger. 

Merlin didn't move. “I suspected it. Feared it. But I didn't know it.” He was silent for a long time, and Eggsy thought that he would leave it at that, but then Merlin continued. “Harry has never forgiven me for saving his life.”

Eggsy looked at him. Merlin looked incredibly sad. “What do you mean?” 

“When he had his accident-” 

“You don't need to lie to me. Harry told me everything. That he was a Kingsman. That he was shot.”

Merlin nodded. “Okay,” he said softly. He nodded again. “When Harry was shot, I moved heaven and earth to get him back to England alive. I broke several international treaties in doing so.” 

Eggsy smiled. Damn. 

“He was in a hospital in Denmark for a very short time, but we couldn't protect him there. We didn't know at that point that Pelageya would not try again. So I… commandeered an airplane, and got Harry back to England, where he was treated in a hospital with enough ties to Kingsman that there could always be someone on the look-out. This was two months after Percival died.” Merlin closed his eyes for a moment, and Eggsy realised for the first time that they had been friends too. “Harry wished that I hadn't… he wished that I would have let him die. He said it to me.” 

Eggsy didn't say anything. What was there to say? For the past six years, Harry had wanted to die, and Merlin had learned to live with that knowledge. What else could he have done? 

“I asked him to go into therapy, to try to deal with Percy's death. Harry refused. That was before he got shot. He got reckless, but Harry always was reckless, so it wasn't noticeable at first. Until he wanted to go on this mission to Denmark alone, and I realised that he was… not afraid of dying anymore. Not at all. In fact, I think he hoped to die in the field.” Merlin coughed softly, trying in vain to get rid of the lump in his throat. “I had some agents go with him secretly. They got him off the streets to safety after he was shot. The moment he was back in England, I demanded he go into therapy now, not only because of Percival, but also to learn to live with his new situation. Harry didn't want to. He said that talking about something couldn't turn back time, and he was right, of course. I knew he was depressed at first, but that faded.” He shook his head.

Eggsy knew what he was thinking. It was naive to think that it just went away. But Eggsy had thought the same, hadn't he? Whenever Harry's bad mood turned into joyfull banter, he had thought that Harry was happy. And despite knowing how sad Harry could get, he had never expected him to try to take his own life. “Merlin? It is not your fault either.” 

Merlin didn't respond to that comment. “It was stupid of me to think that those few hours I see him now and then paint an accurate picture of how he's doing. He had never attempted suicide before. But I think -now I think- that he was secretly hoping that he would just die from natural causes. There are many things that can go wrong in a human body, and Harry knew them all. Whenever I wanted him to go to the hospital for a check-up, he just said 'is my health really relevant anymore?', but he'd go nonetheless. I have made many mistakes, I know that. But all of them were because… because I didn't want him to feel patronized.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“It's ridiculous that he lives in a house with stairs. We were all convinced that, once the worst sadness over Percival was over, Harry would turn the spare room into a bedroom, but he didn't. And he doesn't want to move. I think he'd see it as a betrayal to Percival.” 

Eggsy nodded. He had thought so. 

“I couldn't force him to move, could I? I thought he'd come around, but… well, he's Harry.” 

Yes, that was Harry. Too stubborn for his own good. 

Merlin refreshed some page on his iPad. “Harry's conscious, and talking.” he said softly. He heaved a sigh of relief. 

Eggsy smiled. He finally fully allowed himself to hope.

****

When Harry finally opened his eyes, he felt calm. There was no pain, not in his body at least. _We'll be happy_. Why did that mantra keep repeating in his mind? Who had said the words to him? 

How did he get here? 

There was a clock in the room. He wasn't wearing his glasses, but could make out that it was almost one. It was dark outside, so it was still night. Merlin would not have received his email yet. Or had he been unconscious for a day?

He tried to remember, but dreaded finding out what had truly happened. The door opened, and a female nurse walked in. He didn't close his eyes fast enough. 

She came over. “Hello mister Hart. Do you know where you are?” Her voice was calm and soothing. She smiled at him.

“Hospital,” he mumbled. His voice sounded husky. He cleared his throat. “In the hospital,” he said again. How had he ended up here?

Eggsy had left. He remembered hearing the door close. And then… _tell me a story_. Why would Eggsy want to hear a story? He knew everything. Someone had said the words. 

He had said them himself.

He had said them to Eggsy, twice. _Tell me a story._

Eggsy had come back. He had found him like this…

“Eggsy,” he said softly. Tears welled up in his eyes. 

“Would you like to speak with someone? I can get a therapist to talk to you,” she offered. 

He shook his head. “I just want to sleep,” he said softly.

“Tomorrow then,” she said with a warm smile. 

No. Not tomorrow. Never. But he didn't say that. He simply closed his eyes. 

****

Neither one of them went home that night. Eggsy sometimes had that falling feeling in his stomach as if he was falling asleep, but despite being exhausted, he stayed awake all night. At four o'clock, Merlin looked at something on his iPad and turned pale, and Eggsy immediately suspected the worst. “Harry-” he said, but Merlin shook his head and got up. He clutched his iPad and walked out of the hallway with big steps. 

Eggsy stayed behind, with Merlin's coat and the suitcase with Harry's clothes. What happened? What could it be that had Merlin so shaken up? Eggsy sat there, worrying, for almost half an hour. Then, finally, Merlin returned. 

“He sent me an email,” he said, sounding choked, and Eggsy didn't need to ask who he meant. Harry. “He set it on a timer. It said… Fuck! It said that I should call you to say you're fired. That I should make something up, some reason for not extending your contract. He didn't want you to find him the next morning.” Merlin wiped a tear away.

Eggsy didn't think he had any tears left, but they started welling up again. 

“He said he was sorry-” Merlin shook his head. He couldn't speak anymore. 

****

A different nurse than the one from that night brought him breakfast. She told him that there were visitors for him, who would be coming in at ten if he wanted that. He didn't answer, which she seemed to take for a 'yes'. 

While he had not felt a thing that night, now his arm hurt. He pushed up his sleeve to look at the wound. It was covered, but he carefully took off the tape with stiff fingers, and lifted the cotton bandage. Twenty-two stitches. He touched the stitches softly. He'd have the scar forever. However long that might be. 

At five minutes to ten, the door to his room flew open with enough force to make it slam against the wall. Harry smiled without even realising it, when Eggsy stormed in with the dedication of a madman. 

“Harry!” he shouted, despite them being just meters apart, and ran towards the bed. He ignored the drip and tubes and leaned down, almost losing his balance and falling on top of Harry, to hug him. The feeling of Eggsy's arms squeezing between his back and the pillow to hold him to his chest was enough to make Harry cry again. _I'm turning into an old sap_ , he thought. Eggsy held him tight for a few seconds, then he carefully let Harry sink back against the pillows and took a step back, blushing a bit. 

Harry tried to smile at him, but his face was contorted into a sad frown. 

Merlin had entered behind Eggsy, and stood by the door, hesitating. “Hello Harry,” he said softly. They both remembered the last time. Merlin came closer and put his hand on Harry's shoulder, squeezing softly. “I'll give you a moment,” he said, nodded at Harry and Eggsy, and left. 

There was a lot Harry wanted to say, or felt like he had to say. He was sorry that Eggsy had to find him. He wanted to tell Eggsy that he hoped Eggsy would be like this forever. This cheerful. This young. He hoped Eggsy would be able to hold on to his positive outlook for as long as possible. Because Eggsy didn't know yet that love was hoping the other died before you, so they wouldn't have to go through losing you. He didn't know that missing someone wasn't a feeling, it was a state of being. He didn't know that even the biggest inconvenience was worth holding on to if it reminded you of what you used to have. 

He wanted to say all of these things, but couldn't. And then Eggsy started talking.

“I'm incredibly mad at you.” Eggsy said. He closed his eyes to hide the tears, and shook his head. Then he grabbed one of the plastic chairs, and moved it to the bed. He sat down, and carefully took Harry's hand, the right one, without the cut but with the tube. 

Harry's stomach felt frozen. Eggsy's voice. _We'll be happy_. It was his voice.

And somehow Harry had known that all along. 

Eggsy held Harry's hand, holding it tighter than he probably realised, and didn't look Harry in the eyes as he continued. “I gave you that razor. You made me a complicit to it, Harry! Even if you try again, even if you die tomorrow, please do not do it in a way I could have prevented. How am I supposed to live with that? I do not want to take your choice away, no matter how strongly I disagree with it, no matter how much it would hurt me, but leave me out of it!” He started crying. “I was so afraid I was going to lose you!” He looked at Harry, with his beautiful, blue, tear-filled eyes. 

Harry's heart broke. Eggsy was holding onto his hand like it was the only thing keeping him afloat, and perhaps it was. Harry knew what it felt like to sit at someone's hospital bed. He had been there often enough, sitting by Percival's side, hoping he would make it. He knew exactly what Eggsy was thinking, what he was feeling. Eggsy needed a reminder that Harry was still there. He was afraid of letting go, waking up, and realising that he had not returned to Harry's house, or that he had been too late, or that they had not been able to save him…

Harry wanted to say he was sorry. Maybe his eyes said what he couldn't say, because Eggsy shook his head again and said “Don't apologise to me. I'm just glad you're still alive.” He inhaled shakily.

Harry looked at Eggsy, and his lips were trembling when he softly said “Me too.” The words surprised Harry. Not because he said them, but because he realised he meant them. 

****

Eggsy was back in the hospital at eight o'clock that evening. Merlin had persuaded him to go home and get some rest, saying that he'd be with Harry for the next visiting hour, and Eggsy could be there for the one after. Eggsy had gone home, taken a shower, and slept for five hours, and was now back in time for the next visiting hour. 

Harry didn't speak, and Eggsy didn't push him. He just sat next to Harry, holding his hand. This continued for the next few days. Eggsy lived his life waiting for the visiting hours, anxiously waiting to see Harry again. Each time he visited, Harry looked better, which Eggsy knew was because they had him on antidepressants.

He told his mum that Harry was in the hospital, but didn't say why. It was not his secret to tell. Michelle baked a cake, said “That will make him feel better,” and even though she was wrong, Eggsy was grateful for it. He brought the cake, to the delight of the nurses who all got a piece. Even Harry agreed to eat some. 

On the morning of the eighth day, Harry finally started talking. He cleared his throat, and then hesitated. Eggsy squeezed his hand encouragingly. The cut on Harry's arm was starting to heal, and his complexion had gotten better. Harry sighed loudly, as if he was angry at himself for being dramatic. He cleared his throat again, and said “Did you mean them? The things you said when I was dying?” 

The question made Eggsy blush. “I did,” he said. “So you heard that, huh?” 

Harry smiled. “I don't remember everything. Just some phrases.” 

“I don't remember everything either,” Eggsy admitted. “But I do know I meant them.” 

They were silent again, but it didn't feel strange. Their silences never were. 

That evening, Merlin was waiting for him in the hall outside of Harry's room. He looked incredibly happy. “This morning, I made some speeding tickets disappear. I told Harry this, and he just asked how fast you'd been. I… probably shouldn't be as proud of you for this as I am, but thank you for turning a twenty minute drive into a twelve minute one.” 

Eggsy started grinning too. 

“And I don't know what you said to him, but he has finally agreed to go into therapy. He'll be okay, Eggsy.” Merlin smiled widely. 

“He'll be okay,” Eggsy repeated. 

He believed it, Merlin believed it, and it looked like Harry was finally starting to believe it too.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 

The big banner in the hallway made Harry smile. It had obviously been written by a child; the big block letters were crooked and uneven, and the 'e' in 'welcome' had been added later. It was very small, squeezed in between the words 'welcom home'. The 'o' in 'welcom' had obviously been a 'u' before someone, Eggsy most likely, had turned it into an 'o'. 

“Daisy insisted on 'helping me', and pretty much took over the entire project,” Eggsy said by way of explanation. The banner was hanging a bit too low, so he leaned over Harry's shoulder and lifted it a bit before pushing the chair under it. 

“I love it. Tell her that I said it's beautiful, would you?” 

“You can tell her yourself. My mum still wants to come and visit us.” 

Harry was glad that Eggsy was behind him and couldn't see that his use of 'us' made him smile like a fool. The last two weeks had been terrible, but knowing that Eggsy would be there twice a day had made it better. He had been going to therapy for a few days now, and while talking about Percival was exhausting, he noticed it did lift a kind of pressure off his chest. It was freeing. 

The medication he was taking every day kept the darkness in his mind at bay, and even though he had never cried as much as in the past two weeks, he was starting to feel better. He still needed to go to therapy every day, but if all went well it would turn into five times a week, then three times, and eventually just once. 

“I don't think I can get you into the other chair without smashing your head against the wall,” Eggsy said. He was right. The motorised chair was still standing at the bottom of the stairs. Eggsy had brought the foldable chair Harry used upstairs to the hospital when he picked him up. The hallway was a bit too narrow to comfortably hop from one chair to the other. 

“I'll switch in the living room.” Harry said. 

Eggsy made an excited noise, and walked backwards into the living room, pulling Harry with him. “I get to drive that thing?” he asked, and squealed again. 

Harry turned his head just so he could roll his eyes at Eggsy. “I knew you've been wanting to do that from the very first day.” 

“Was it so obvious?” Eggsy asked innocently, and winked at Harry. He postioned Harry in the doorway. “Don't laugh at me if I fuck up.” 

Since Eggsy could drive a van in the same way others drove a racing car, Harry doubted he would, but he watched with amusement as Eggsy sat down on the chair, looking as if he'd been allowed to pilot a plane. He burst into laughter when Eggsy steered the chair backwards into the wall. The wheels of the chair hit the wall, hard, and it came to a stop. 

“Oops.” Eggsy said, and moved forward and to the left, a bit more careful now. He stopped less than an inch from the opposite wall. “Damn,” he said, “this takes some skills, Harry!” He managed to turn the chair, and Harry moved backwards to make room for Eggsy to steer it into the living room. Eggsy had to reverse a couple of times to get the right angle, but eventually he drove the chair into the room, and smiled triumphantly. “I made it!” 

“I'm very proud of you,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. 

Eggsy laughed. “I'm glad to see these pills haven't stopped you from being a sarcastic bastard.” 

Harry did his best to look shocked, but couldn't hide his grin. Things were okay between them. Perhaps even more than okay. 

Eggsy helped him switch to the other wheelchair, and brought the chair upstairs again. Merlin had arranged for the mattress to be replaced, and had thrown out the bloodied sheets. Harry knew it wasn't an attempt to get rid of all traces of what he'd done, but was rather meant as a fresh start of sorts. For him and for Eggsy. For 'them'. 

For 'us'. 

****

That evening after Eggsy put the lasagne in the oven, he excused himself to go to the bathroom. 

Harry managed to keep a straight face as Eggsy walked past him, and braced himself for what was to come. He'd been waiting for this moment for three hours.

It all happened within a second: the sound of the bathroom door opening, then a loud “WAH!” and the sound of Eggsy's back hitting the opposite wall, followed by a loud relieved laugh. Eggsy came back and looked at Harry accusingly. “Holy-fucking-shit-Jesus-fuck! Seriously? Again? What did you do that for?” He did his best to look angry, but laughed loudly when he saw the pure joy on Harry's face. 

Harry shrugged. “Learning curve.” Eggsy had certainly been less scared than the first time. That was good. “Mr Pickle strikes again.” he said cheerfully, and grinned widely. 

Eggsy rolled his eyes, and grinned. “I'm really, really glad you're back.” 

****

“You should invite Roxy too.” Harry said suddenly. He had been back for three days, and Eggsy's mum and sister would be coming over tomorrow. “If she isn't busy.” 

Eggsy let out a sarcastic “HA!” He shook his head. “Roxy is never busy if she doesn't want to be. I'll ask her, yeah?” He started texting her, while still shovelling food into his mouth with his other hand. 

Harry realised that Eggsy had never told him whether Roxy had a job, or was in university. “What does Roxy do? Is she a student?” 

Eggsy swallowed his bite, and pulled a face, as the still too-large pieces of potato became partly stuck in his throat. He took a big gulp of water. “Roxy studies Russian literature. But she's really smart, so even if she's supposed to be at a lecture, she'll probably be here.” His mobile vibrated, and he looked at the message. “She'll definitely be here. Right after her kick-box training.” 

“She studies Russian literature and kick-boxes?” Harry asked. He was impressed. While Eggsy had always spoken highly of her, this girl was sounding more and more promising. Merlin would like to hear about this. According to him, this year's candidates were 'hilariously bad'. 

“And she can hold her liquor, which I think is good if you're going to spend time in Russia.” Eggsy added. 

Indeed. Maybe he had just found the right person to work on their contacts with the KGB. 

****

The following day, they went to get groceries together. “What do little kids eat?” Harry asked, keeping pace next to Eggsy, who was pushing their empty trolley.

“Do you know these big packages of bird seed?” Eggsy asked. “With sunflower seeds and stuff like that?”

Harry wasn't sure if Eggsy was taking the piss. He looked serious enough, scanning the shelves for inspiration for dinner. 

“And other than that, just coffee and hard liquor.” 

“You're such a dick,” Harry said. “I was serious! I know nothing about kids.”

“Daisy is an omnivore. If her stomach can break down shoelaces, it can handle adult food, don't you think?” 

Harry laughed softly. He hoped this was just a joke, not an actual anecdote. 

“You know nothing about kids, I know nothing about wine. Which one?” Eggsy asked, gesturing at the shelves full of bottles. 

Harry picked one, and they slowly filled up their trolley with more food than they would ever need for just five people. 

It felt really domestic, them doing groceries together. Once again, Harry was incredible glad he had chosen Eggsy that day, even though it had been for all the wrong reasons. He could not imagine doing this with anyone else. He could not imagine his life without Eggsy. And that didn't scare him anymore. 

Two hours later, Eggsy was running around like a headless chicken, preparing everything for later. There was the sound of something breaking, right when the doorbell rang. Eggsy groaned loudly, but ran to the door. 

Harry heard him say “Oh it's you,” from the hallway, and then a girl's voice saying “And I'm very happy to see you too.” The eyeroll was practically audible. 

“It's just that there was a minor crisis,” Eggsy defended himself. “Come in.” 

He came back into the living room and said “This is Harry – Harry Hart. Harry, this is Roxanne Morton.” He rolled his eyes a bit at the formality. 

Roxy jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow, and then smiled at Harry and extended her hand. “Nice to meet you, mister Hart. And please, call me Roxy.” Her handshake was firm, and he liked how she didn't lean down when shaking his hand. 

“Nice to meet you too, Roxy. Please call me Harry.” 

Roxy had her hair in a high ponytail, she wore skinny jeans and sneakers, and a dark green parka. 

“Harry, I've just destroyed a wineglass.” Eggsy announced, and went to the kitchen. 

“Have a seat,” Harry said to Roxy. 

She took off her parka, and laid it next to herself on the couch. Underneath, she wore a simple black t-shirt. She grinned at Harry and said “Everything makes so much sense now.” 

“What do you mean?!” Eggsy shouted from the kitchen. They could hear the sound of glass splinters being swiped up. It was as if he was afraid Roxy might give away some big secret of his. Interesting.

“I'd like to apologise for my language in advance,” she said, and gestured towards the kitchen, “but Eggsy is such a dick.”

“What?!” Eggsy shouted. “What did I do?!” 

Harry chuckled. “Whatever it was, I'm sure Roxy is right.” 

His statement seemed to amuse Roxy. She grinned and turned her head towards the kitchen. “Eggsy! When you told me you had a job 'cleaning for some posh gentleman', you did a really good job at making it sound like you were working for some creepy guy who just liked to have a young man around to do his cooking.” 

She looked at Harry again and rolled her eyes.

“He didn't mention the wheelchair?” Harry asked. It surprised him. Usually, when talking about him, it was the first thing people mentioned. 

“No. He said you were posh and you had a dead dog in your loo. So that was pretty much my image of you. Sorry. Though I'm glad to see you are not creepy.”

Harry laughed. He could see why Eggsy and Roxy were friends. She didn't hold back at all, and shared his sense of humour. Even though she seemed calm, Harry could imagine that she'd be a very tough opponent in the ring. Fantastic.

Eggsy came back. “Do you want to see the dog?” he asked. 

Roxy stood up. “Of course!” 

Eggsy winked at Harry behind Roxy's back, and led her to the bathroom. As the door opened, Roxy started laughing incredibly hard. “It's so cuuuuute!” she said. “Aaaaaw.” 

“For fuck sake, Roxy! You are not human!” Eggsy said, and came back into the living room, while Roxy was still laughing and cooing. “She didn't even fucking flinch!” 

They had carefully prepared the Mr Pickle-rig after doing the groceries, and while Eggsy seemed disappointed, Harry wasn't at all. Roxy was shaping up to be a perfect candidate for Kingsman. 

“Your mum does know though, doesn't she? About the wheelchair?” Harry asked. In a way, he was flattered that even back then, Eggsy hadn't thought that the wheelchair was the thing most worth mentioning. Even if that was because he hated Harry back then, and only talked about how rude he was. 

“Yes,” Eggsy said. “Daisy might be a bit disappointed in the chair though.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Eggsy looked slightly guilty. “I may have said you drive around in a small car. How else should I have explained it? Anyway, she expects it to be a mini cooper, and has been asking mum if she can have a car in the house too.” 

“What did your mum say?” Harry asked amusedly. 

“That she can do whatever she wants once she's older.” 

Roxy came back, and said “That's the most adorable dog! I liked his party hat.” She sat down again.

Eggsy noticed her coat, and said “Let me pretend to be a good host.” He took the coat and went into the hallway. A few seconds later, the doorbell rang. 

Roxy and Harry both laughed when instead of opening the door, Eggsy ran past them with Mr Pickle in his arms, screaming “There's nowhere to hide!”

“Why do you need to hide Mr-”

“Because Daisy thinks he is a real dog, and if she sees him she'll start crying!” Eggsy shouted from the kitchen, opening drawers and cupboards, looking for a place to stuff the dog.

“He IS a real dog!” Harry said.

Eggsy came back, without Mr Pickle. “He's in the oven!” he said in a hushed voice, then he ran to into the hallway. "If she asks about your dog, just say - I dunno, that he's been hit by a truck or something.” Eggsy said, panicky, then he opened the door.

“EGGSY!” a small voice screamed. 

“DAISY!” he said back, and a happy squeal indicated that he picked her up. 

Eggsy came into the living room with a little girl in his arms, followed by his mother. Daisy waved at Roxy enthusiastically, and Eggsy set her down, so she could throw herself into Roxy's arms. Michelle looked at the wooden floors and dark furniture in awe. She smiled warmly at Harry. 

“I hope you're feeling better,” she said after having been introduced. 

Harry knew that Eggsy had never told her why he was in the hospital, so he just said “I am, thank you.” 

She had brought flowers, so Eggsy went to find a vase. 

“Hello Daisy. Your brother told me you made that beautiful banner. Thank you very much, it was lovely.” 

“Thank you,” she mumbled, suddenly shy. She was sitting on Roxy's lap, eyeing his wheelchair with suspicion. “That is not a mini cooper.” she said, looking at Harry for confirmation. 

“No, but it does have a motor.” Harry said. 

She looked impressed, and gathered the courage to stand up and carefully approach it. She touched the wheels. “But pretty.” 

“Thank you.” Harry said. “Would you like a ride?” 

Her eyes widened. “Yes!” she said with reverence.

“Come here.” Harry picked her up, and set her on his lap. Then he drove around the table once. Daisy let out some happy squeals, while Michelle and Roxy watched with big smiles on their faces. 

Harry helped Daisy get safely to the ground again, and looked up to see Eggsy standing in the doorway. Eggsy winked at him. “She's got you wrapped around her little finger.”

Harry shrugged, and grinned. “Maybe.” It surprised him how much fun he had. Talking to Michelle and Roxy was easy, and Daisy just kept touching parts of his wheelchair with the adorable puzzlement of small children. Michelle complimented Harry on his house, and told him how proud Eggsy had been to have landed the job, Harry told her he couldn't have wished for a better person to fill the position. When he glanced at Eggsy, it was obvious that he had been listening in; he was barely containing a smile and was blushing a bit. 

When it was time for dinner, Eggsy asked Roxy to help him with the finishing touches, leaving Michelle, Daisy and Harry in the living room. Eggsy gave Harry a pointed look before disappearing with Roxy, and Harry knew what he wanted Harry to do. Daisy was half asleep on the couch, so she wouldn't hear what they were about to discuss. Even if she did, she would not understand the significance of it. “Michelle?” Harry said carefully. There really was no proper way to prepare someone for this, which was the reason that Eggsy hadn't managed to do this. 

“Yes?” she said, sounding a bit worried.

He just had to tell her. “Eggsy told me about you first husband. About his death.” 

She leaned forward a bit, in anticipation. Something in his tone must have told her what was about to come. “You know how it happened?” she asked. She stared at him with wide eyes.

He nodded. “You will understand that I cannot tell you how I know this, but I… I asked a friend to look into it. A friend in a high place.” He couldn't tell her about Kingsman. Pretending he knew someone in the government seemed like the most obvious course of action. “I am not allowed to know this, and neither are you, but I felt like you should know nonetheless.” He explained to her that Lee had been in training for MI6, that he had died saving others. Her response was the same as Eggsy's had been; disbelief, relief and pride. 

She thanked him with tears in her eyes. “You have given me the best gift...” she said softly, wiping tears from her cheeks. “And that after everything else you've done for our family.” She saw the surprise on his face, and elaborated. “Eggsy's job is very important – not just for him, but for us.” she gestured at Daisy and herself. 

Harry didn't know what to say, so he just nodded.

“I'm going to leave my husband,” she said suddenly, and every trace of sadness made place for determination. She had never looked more like Eggsy than in that very moment. “I'll tell him soon.” 

It was crazy how much pride he felt for her, despite them not really knowing each other. “Then it seems like Eggsy and you both will have received some good news this week.” 

She laughed through the tears that were starting again. “I can see why he likes you,” she said, and had no idea of the storm her words caused in his mind.

****

“Who'd have thought that Eggsy can cook,” Roxy said, leaning back in her chair. They were all stuffed. 

“Oi!” Eggsy said. “I have many hidden talents!” 

“Very hidden.” Roxy quipped back. Being with them, all of them, was fun. 

When they left, Michelle thanked him again, and the smile on Eggsy's face when she did meant the world to Harry. 

Daisy asked when they were coming back, which made Harry's heart melt. She touched the wheels of his wheelchair again and whispered “Bye bye pretty.” 

Roxy thanked him for inviting her and told Eggsy he should call her. Then they were gone, and Harry and Eggsy stood in the hallway, in a house that was suddenly very quiet. 

“That was fun, wasn't it?” Eggsy asked.

“It was,” Harry said. He really had enjoyed himself. “Your family is wonderful. Really. Speaking of which, I don't mind going upstairs now, so you can spend some time with them.” 

“Nah, I just did. I don't mind staying for a bit.” 

It was only because Harry knew that Eggsy meant it, that he agreed. “I'll dry if you clean the dishes.” 

“Nice!” Eggsy said with a grin. “Hey, how come your hands are better?” 

Harry gave him the same explanation his therapist had given him. “It's psychosomatic. This pretty much means it was all in my head. Due to stress and such.” 

“Like the thing John Watson has with his leg!” Eggsy said.

“Ha! Merlin owes me ten pounds now!” Harry said cheerfully. “I told him you'd make a pop-culture reference when I told you!” 

Eggsy grinned at him. “I'm always happy to help. I'll collect my share of the money tomorrow.” 

Harry rolled his eyes. “Sure.” They smiled at each other, and Harry felt a blush creep up his cheeks. 

They were silent for a while. Harry thought of Daisy, who was so curious and sweet, like her brother, and the quiet determination on Michelle's face when she announced she'd be leaving her husband. He thought of the words that would for ever pop up in his mind when he needed them _We'll be happy_. He thought of all these things, and made a decision. He had finally come to a point in his life where he could do it. It was time. 

He could move on.

****

Eggsy saw Harry get lost in his own mind again, but he didn't try to pull him out. Wherever Harry was, he seemed happy. 

After a while, Harry was back. He groaned. “I'm so full!” 

“It's because I'm a fantastic cook.” Eggsy said. 

“Yes,” Harry admitted. “That roast was more than I can handle.” 

Eggsy handed him the last clean dish, and started putting away the dry ones. “Wanna watch a film? I seem to recall a promise to watch Inglourious Basterds.” 

“Sure. Why not?” 

Eggsy went to get Harry's laptop, and Harry searched through his extensive library of illegally downloaded films. Harry told him that Merlin sometimes downloaded all films that had come out in the last few months. Including this one, apparently. 

“Wanna sit on the couch for a change?” Eggsy asked. Something about the question brought back a memory, or not really a memory, but rather a feeling. He wasn't sure it was good or bad. 

Harry hesitated. Perhaps he had the same feeling. “Okay,” he said. 

Eggsy leaned down so Harry could put his arm around his shoulders, and lifted him onto the couch. He sat down next to him.

“Am I going to regret watching this?” Harry asked, before pressing start. 

Eggsy grinned. “Of course not. It's a modern classic! With lots of violence.” 

Harry sighed, but smiled. He started the film.

Eggsy couldn't concentrate on the film, but didn't mind it at all. He had seen it countless times already. He very slowly moved his right hand from his lap to the couch, until it was resting against Harry's hand. Harry didn't pull back, and both kept their eyes on the screen. The spot where their skin touched seemed to radiate heat. 

There were butterflies in Eggsy's stomach, and he couldn't think of anything but the warmth of Harry's hand, and how he had called Eggsy's family 'wonderful', and how Daisy had immediately liked him lots. “It's cold in here,” he mumbled, even though he felt like he was burning up, and moved a bit closer to Harry. A few minutes later, he moved closer again. And again. Their legs were pressing together, and Eggsy had difficulty keeping his breathing even. Maybe he was wrong about this. But maybe he wasn't. 

“Very cold,” Harry agreed, which Eggsy took as an encouragement. He scooted over even more, so he was practically sitting on Harry's lap. 

Harry laughed. “I'm glad to serve as a personal space heater, but I despite what you might think I DO feel you sitting on my lap.” 

“Good,” Eggsy mumbled. 

Harry gave him a weird look, a smile that disappeared when he realised he didn't know _why_ he was smiling. 

“What's wrong?” Eggsy asked, putting his arm around Harry's shoulders. 

“Just a weird kind of deja-vu,” Harry said softly.

“Good weird or bad weird?” Eggsy held his breath. The butterflies seemed to be doing acrobatics in his stomach. 

Harry hesitated for a moment, then he smiled. “Good weird. Definitely good.” He put his arms around Eggsy's waist. They locked eyes. Harry's smile grew wider. 

Eggsy leaned in, very slowly, looking into Harry's eyes the entire time. Harry pulled him closer, and then they were so close that Eggsy felt the warmth of Harry's skin on his face. He closed his eyes when Harry's lips met his. For the second time in his life, Eggsy felt like only him and Harry still existed. He wanted to feel this way forever. And so did Harry.


	9. Chapter 9

Eggsy didn't think he would ever stop smiling. Harry looked almost delirious with happiness, he smiled widely, and was looking at Eggsy in a way that made him feel warm inside, and happier than he'd ever been before. Eggsy gently touched the crinkles in the corners of Harry's eyes. “Finally,” he said softly. 

Harry's eyes were gleaming. He was slowly stroking Eggsy's back. “Finally?” he asked, and winked at Eggsy.

The wink made Eggsy blush even more than he already did. Harry could be incredibly sexy when he wanted to be. “Yeah. I've had a crush on you for… longer than I'd like to admit.” 

“Really?” Harry asked. 

Eggsy kissed his lips softly before answering. “Really. I thought it was terribly obvious.” 

“It wasn't,” Harry mumbled, placing small kisses all over Eggsy's mouth. 

Eggsy sighed. “I should go home.” His mum would wonder why he wasn't home yet.

“You should.” Harry agreed.

“But I don't want to.” He wanted to stay here, in this moment, for eternity. 

“And I don't want you to go. But you should.” Harry smiled. “There's always tomorrow.” 

He was right. Eggsy grinned and finally got up. Once Harry was in bed, Eggsy kissed him again. It was a relief that he could just do that now. Walking to the bus, he realised that today had been the best day of his life. 

****

When Eggsy got home, his mum was waiting for him in the living room. To Eggsy's surprise, Roxy was there as well. Both women looked at him with an excited kind of curiosity. 

“Hi Rox,” he said, almost making it sound like a question.

“Well?!” She said, not bothering to say hi back. 

He started blushing immediately. They knew. He cleared his throat, and avoided looking at them. “So, I guess female intuition is no joke...” he said weakly. 

“YOU KISSED!” Roxy almost screamed. She got up, and almost tackled him with a hug. 

“Yes”. He was smiling again, or still, he wasn't sure. He looked at his mum, who looked incredibly happy. 

Roxy let him go. “Since when?!” she asked, trying to sound offended, but not succeeding. She just sounded happy. 

“Since half an hour ago?” he said. “After you guys left, we watched a film and then… well.” 

Roxy squealed. 

Michelle got up and hugged him as well. “Oh Eggsy, I'm so happy for you!” She ruffled his hair like she did when he was a kid, and smiled at him with tears in her eyes. “Harry is a good man. A kind man. It is obvious you two are smitten with each other.” 

Eggsy's whole face felt like it was burning, he was blushing so hard. “Yes,” he mumbled. “Have you two been waiting here with the sole purpose of ambushing me the moment I got home?” 

“Yes,” Roxy said bluntly, and Michelle nodded.

“And to gossip,” Michelle added. “And to...” suddenly, her face crumpled up and she started crying. 

Eggsy had his arms around her within a second. He looked over her shoulder, at Roxy. This was not about him and Harry. Michelle was genuinely happy for him. But then what was it about? “Mum?” he said softly. “Are you okay?” It had to be about Dean. But Roxy had been here the whole time, so Dean couldn't have hurt her. Roxy would have protected Michelle. 

Michelle took a deep breath and took a step back, out of his arms, to look at him. “I'm going to leave Dean. As soon as we find another place to live.” 

Eggsy was gob-smacked for a moment. Then he started grinning. “Really?” 

She nodded.

He threw his arms around her and held her tight. “I'm so fucking proud of you!” he said. She was leaving Dean. Finally. Michelle sobbed into his shoulder, and he looked at Roxy again. She was watching them with a proud smile. She winked at him and gestured at the door, mouthing 'I'll be off.' He nodded softly, and with one last proud look at Michelle, Roxy left.

****

Eggsy was earlier than he had ever been. He popped his head around the door of the bathroom when Harry was shaving. Harry used the normal razors again – Eggsy had thrown the others out, understandably. 

“Good morning!” Eggsy said enthusiastically, and came in. 

Harry grinned back at him. “Good morning, Eggsy.” He had woken up with a smile, and was sure he'd fall asleep with a smile this night. 

Eggsy stood behind him, smiling at him in the mirror, while Harry finished shaving. The moment he was done and turned his chair around, Eggsy leaned down and kissed him. Harry cupped Eggsy's face and kissed back. “I could get used to this,” he mumbled. 

Eggsy straightened. “Me too,” he said. Then he took a deep breath and said “I told my mum about us, and Roxy knows, and they are happy for us, and my mum is going to leave Dean.” 

Harry blinked. He didn't know what to say. “That's great,” he said then. 

Eggsy started laughing. “I think you mean 'Fucking marvellous'.” 

Harry had not expected Eggsy to tell his mum this soon, but he didn't mind. At all. In fact, it was quite a relief that Michelle didn't object to it, despite their age-gap. And the difference in physical health. And all the other things that could divide them, but didn't. 

That afternoon, they went to a nearby park. There were three dogs playing with one ball, while their owners chatted to each other. Eggsy and Harry stopped and watched the smaller dog chase the two big ones and steal the ball the moment one of the larger ones dropped it. Harry positioned his chair next to a bench so Eggsy could sit down. 

While looking at the dogs, Harry suddenly said “I might have a solution for your mum. Since she needs a new place to live.” 

Eggsy looked at him with surprise. “Oh?” 

“Yes. My house.” 

When Eggsy frowned, Harry continued. “I should move. I have known that for years of course, but… well, you know why I didn't want to. And I still… I don't want to, but I do realise it's for the best.” 

Eggsy nodded, but said nothing. 

“So I was thinking, your mum and sister can live in my house, and… I will find some place new.” 

Eggsy noticed the slight hesitation before saying 'I', as if Harry had almost said 'we'. It made him want to jump Harry's bones, but he managed to restrain himself. “I'm really proud of you, Harry. Maybe that's a weird thing to say, but I am.” He reached out and took Harry's hand in his. Harry's hand was cold, so Eggsy rubbed it gently, warming it. 

“Thank you,” Harry said softly. He was proud of himself as well. He had made a decision yesterday, and that decision was not just to let Eggsy into his life, but also to close a previous chapter that had always prevented him from moving on with the story. It had taken him six years and countless sessions with a therapist to realise, that that chapter would still be there, even if he closed it. He would not be throwing it away, he would be storing it somewhere where it didn't hold him back, but simply was there when he needed it. And for that, he needed Merlin's help. 

There was no rush. He'd take his time telling Merlin about him and Eggsy. For now, he just wanted to enjoy it. 

“We should have a dog,” Eggsy said, leaning to the side, so his head rested against Harry's arm. 

He said 'we' without even noticing it. 

“We should.” But it could wait. The first step for their life together depended on Merlin's cooperation, and on whether or not he would kill Harry when he found out what he had to do for him. 

****

Harry asked him to come over one evening, after Eggsy had gone home, and blurted it out the moment he opened the door. Merlin gave him a probing look and asked “How long?” 

“A week.” 

“Fuck.” 

Harry sighed loudly. “I take it you didn't win the office pool?” 

Merlin shook his head, and finally came in. “I think Tristan was closest, that bastard. He said he knew you'd get together soon the moment he saw Eggsy.” 

Tristan had won every office pool there had been about a relationship. Some called him cupid due to this. 

“I'm really happy for you, Harry. Truly. You two are good together.” 

Merlin's words caused a lump in Harry's throat. Merlin had been close friends with Percival for many years, so for him to say this -and mean it- meant the world to Harry. Harry wanted to tell Merlin right then and there about the huge problem that was looming over them, but couldn't bring himself to do it. He knew he'd have to do it soon. Michelle and Daisy could move into his house then, and would finally be free of Dean. He just had to gather the courage to do it: to open the spare room for the first time in years and face the facts.

****

Life was better since they got together. Eggsy still drove Harry to therapy every day, and waited in the hall while Harry had his session. Eventually, Harry stopped having therapy in the hospital, and started having the sessions at home. This new therapist was an Asian woman called Genevieve, and was a therapist from Kingsman. It meant that Harry could finally talk about the real reason Percival died, the guilt he felt about it, and the life he'd had with him. Eggsy waited upstairs while Harry had these sessions, and came down when he heard the front door close. In the beginning, he sometimes found Harry crying, and they were both glad Eggsy was there to comfort him. After only two weeks, the number of sessions got reduced to five times a week, and Harry didn't look as bad after every talk. 

He told Genevieve about him and Eggsy, and she asked him if Eggsy had slept over yet. He understood why she asked, and said that he hadn't asked Eggsy that yet. 

She noticed his discomfort at the question, and asked him why the subject made him uncomfortable. “I read in your file that you have a partial spine injury,” she said. 

He cleared his throat. “Yes.” He hesitated. Then he said “Sex would be possible, technically.” 

“Only technically?” she asked. 

He almost started biting his nails nervously, but stopped himself. He wasn't a teenager. He should be able to talk about sex without getting embarrassed. “The thing is… I haven't...” 

“You haven't had sex in a long time,” she finished the sentence for him.

“Yes,” he admitted. “Please don't say it's like riding a bike.” 

She grinned. “Okay. I won't. But it is.” 

He groaned, which made her smile. It wasn't all, though. His body was not what it had once been. While his arms and upper back were strong and muscular from dragging himself up the stairs every day, his legs were pale and thin. Eggsy was young and beautiful. “I'm afraid that Eggsy will run away screaming when he sees me naked,” he said, trying to make it sound like a joke even though it wasn't. 

“Do you respect Eggsy?” she asked.

“Yes!” What the hell? 

“Do you think he is capable of making his own decisions?” 

He had to fight his urge to roll his eyes. “Of course!” 

“Do you not think that Eggsy knows what he signed up for?” 

He thought it over for a while. Eggsy was not expecting him to have the body of an Adonis. He knew Harry's limitations. Genevieve was right: Eggsy knew what he signed up for. And he had done it anyway.

After this session, once Eggsy came downstairs again, he looked at Harry with suspicion. “You look like you were caught masturbating.” he said.

Harry buried his face in his hands. “Stooop,” he groaned. 

Eggsy laughed. “Not that I would mind to see you masturbate, I just didn't think you'd do it in front of Genevieve.” he gently pulled Harry's hands away, and grinned at him. “What are you really blushing about?” 

“That's confidential,” Harry said. 

Eggsy winked at him and dropped the subject, but he must have guessed what he'd spoken about with Genevieve, because a few days later, Harry found condoms and lube in his night stand drawer, which had definitely not been there before. 

Harry started looking for a new house. They never spoke about Eggsy moving in with him, but he frequently asked Eggsy for his opinion. “This is too far from this house,” Eggsy would say, or “No garden?” and Harry would keep searching. He made a list of houses that seemed okay, and kept it in his pocket. He looked at the list sometimes, but wasn't ready yet to go look at the houses for real. There was still time. 

They had been together for a month when Harry finally called Merlin to tell him they had to discuss something important. 

****

Merlin tried not to expect the worst when Harry asked him to come over a week later. Harry refused to tell him what it was about, only saying “It is… it is very important.”

Merlin was worried all the way to Harry's house even though he knew Eggsy was there to keep an eye out. Harry could not have been hurt, or Eggsy would have been the one to call him. Or maybe they were over. Maybe Eggsy had broken up with Harry. 

No, Merlin could not imagine that.

Harry opened the door for him and asked him in. He looked sad but determined. And there was something else in his expression, but Merlin wasn't sure what it was. 

“Hi Merlin!” Eggsy yelled from the kitchen. Thank God. So it wasn't about them. But then what was it about?

“Hello Eggsy,” he said back, rolling his eyes at Harry. 

Merlin sat down on the couch, while Harry positioned himself across from him. He seemed nervous, like he was about to give some bad news. Merlin hoped he wasn't planning on stopping his therapy. Things were looking up, and he thought that Harry realised that it really helped him as well. 

Harry waited until Eggsy came in with tea, and asked him to sit down. 

Eggsy exchanged a look with Merlin. He obviously didn't know what this was about either. 

“I have… erhm… been talking a lot to a therapist, as you both know...” Harry started. His eyes started tearing up a bit. “I know that I… that I tend to erm… hold on to the past. A lot.” 

Eggsy reached out and touched Harry's hand softly. 

Harry exhaled slowly and continued. He said the words quickly and monotonously, as if he had to get them out quickly before he changed his mind. “I think it's for the best if we clear out Percival's office.” 

“The spare room,” Eggsy said with a fond smile. 

Harry nodded. “Over the years I have put many things in there, pictures, memories… there are many things in there I want to keep. Still. But there are also things that… well, they really need to go.”

Merlin was finally able to determine what the other emotion was that he'd seen on Harry's face. Guilt. Not the heavy kind, not the kind that indicated he felt bad about clearing out the room. A mischievous kind of guilt, like a kid that is about to confess he has stolen some cookies. Harry looked at Merlin very briefly.

“O God,” Merlin said. “What else is in that room?”

Harry suppressed a smile. “I think it's for the best if you look at that yourself.” 

Eggsy and Merlin exchanged a look again. Eggsy looked excited and curious. Merlin looked terrified. 

****

Eggsy stood next to Harry while Harry unlocked the door. He was finally going to see the mysterious room, and while he sort of knew now what was in it, he wondered what it was that had Harry looking so guilty, and Merlin looking so scared. He assumed it had to do with the 'crazy' part of Percival's personality. He liked it already. 

Harry pushed the door open very slowly, revealing the contents of the room bit by bit. While he had called it an office, it was obviously a workshop. In the middle of the room, there was a big, square table, almost completely covered in millimetre-paper. Some sheets of paper had been drawn on, others were empty, but most were obscured by things lying on top of it anyway. There were framed photos of Harry and Percival, items that had obviously been brought back from abroad; Chinese lanterns, Dutch clogs, the small replica's of landmarks one could buy at every market in any country, city maps of cities Eggsy had never heard of, and postcards from every corner of the earth. The walls were hung with various tools, safety goggles and a lab coat. The whole room smelled vaguely of burned wood. What really drew Eggsy's attention though, was that there was a whole wall covered with shelves full of lighters. 

Eggsy looked at Harry, who was chewing his lip, and then at Merlin, who looked at the room as if he could not believe his eyes. 

Merlin blinked slowly a couple of times, then he said “That's twenty years worth of stolen goods.” He sounded rather impressed. 

Harry smirked a bit. 

Merlin clasped him on the shoulder. “I knew there was no way he destroyed so many of them! But then again, it WAS Percival...” 

“What exactly are we looking at here?” Eggsy asked. A couple hundred of lighters. So what? What was so special, other than the ridiculous amount of them? He looked more closely, and saw that there was something connecting the lighters; various wires in multiple colours formed an intricate pattern between the small, golden lighters. 

“You are looking at roughly three hundred hand grenades, and by the looks of it, they've been turned into some kind of bomb.” Merlin said.

What the…? 

Harry didn't say anything. He just looked at the lighters with a completely neutral expression, which was the biggest clue that he was at least partially responsible for the huge amount of them that had accumulated here. 

“So what you're saying is….” Eggsy said carefully.

“That we probably shouldn't jump up and down if we don't want to die in a massive blast.” Merlin said calmly. He looked at Harry, who still did his best to look innocent. “Correct me if I'm wrong, but if there had been an earthquake, half of London would've been gone. Right?”

Harry shrugged. “Well, there hasn't been an earthquake. But you see now why I couldn't just let some movers come in and get rid of it?”

Merlin sighed. 

“Hand grenades!” Eggsy said. “Fuuuuck! That's so much better than dead ex-wives!”

Merlin looked confused. 

“Don't ask,” Harry said. 

Merlin rubbed his eyes, and looked at the lighters again, as if he'd hoped they would just disappear. “A few years back I would have said 'we'll let the bombsquad take care of it'...” he said, sounding exasperated.

Harry grinned, but tried to hide it. “Yes,” he said. 

“And why can't you do that now?” Eggsy asked.

Harry chuckled. 

Merlin shook his head, and shot Harry a disapproving look. “Because Percival WAS the bombsquad. He wasn't exactly supposed to take his hobby home.” 

“You'll figure something out,” Harry said cheerfully. “And now Eggsy and I need to go… somewhere. So… bye!” he grinned at Eggsy, who looked more in love than ever before, and the both of them made their way out of the house quickly, leaving Merlin behind to look at his worst nightmare. 

“Oh Percival,” he whispered. “You keep amazing me.” 

****

Harry and Eggsy went outside without any set destination in mind, laughing the whole way.

“Did you see his face?!” Eggsy asked. “As if he was hoping against hope that it was just a dream!” 

“I know. Poor man,” Harry chuckled. Merlin would figure something out though. He always did. Harry's mobile started ringing, and after sharing an alarmed look with Eggsy, he took it out. “It's Merlin.” 

“Oh shit!” Eggsy said cheerfully. He was clearly enjoying all of this way too much. 

“Hello.” Harry said. “Uhu… Yes… Eeehrm, maybe?… Yes, sure… FIVE HOURS?… Okay, we will. Thank you, Merlin. And I'm really sorry about this.” He hung up, and pulled a face.

“So?” 

“Merlin thinks he might know a way to dismantle the bomb, but he needs Tristan to bring some kind of device that will minimise the damage or something… I kind of stopped listening at that point. But even if they succeed, it's going to take at least five hours, and we can't be in the house during that time.” 

Eggsy shrugged. “Well, what should we do until then?” 

Harry hesitated for a moment. They had to do it eventually, and now was as good a time as ever. Now that the thing holding him back was being removed, why not start looking forward for real? “Would you like to… we could go look at some of the houses I put on my list.” 

Eggsy's eyes lit up. “Awesome! Let's go get the van.” 

Harry could almost see Eggsy fall in love with the very first house, and he felt the same. It was all on one floor, and since the previous owner had been wheelchair bound, all doors and hallways were wide enough for a wheelchair to easily fit through them, the bathrooms were modified with grab bars and the sinks were lowered. In the kitchen, all cabinets were on ground level, and the stove and counters were low enough to reach, but with enough room under it that the armrests of the wheelchair would not bump into it if Harry got closer.

Other than that, it was remarkable how much the house resembled Harry's house. The floors were wooden, and the furniture was dark and expensive. It didn't take a lot of imagination to see Harry live here. 

The previous owner's daughter was giving them a tour, pointing out smaller modifications they wouldn't even have noticed at first glance, like the wardrobe with sliding doors, and the light switch next to the bed. “My father led a happy life her for almost thirty years,” she said, giving Harry a warm smile. 

“Thank you,” he said, and looked at Eggsy, who was looking around in awe. 

Once they left, Eggsy grinned at Harry at said “It's not too far away from where you live now.” _From where his mum and sister would soon live_. “And there is a park in the neighbourhood.” _For the dogs they would have_.

“It's pretty perfect,” Harry agreed. He squeezed Eggsy's hand for a moment. Living in that house would give him total freedom. He would not need Eggsy's help with anything, which meant that the only doubt he had about their relationship (can a carer be a partner at the same time?) would be gone. 

“So, do you want to look at other houses, or…?” Eggsy asked.

“It was the top of my list for a reason. I think I'll take it.” Harry said. He felt strange, somehow relieved and sentimental at the same time. Most of all, he felt happy. Truly, deeply happy. 

Suddenly, Eggsy started laughing. “Did I just put myself out of a job?” 

Harry grinned. “Yes. But I think I may have a solution for that as well.” 

Eggsy raised his eyebrow. “Tell me more.” 

Harry winked at him and squeezed his hand again. “How would you like to be a tailor?”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter!
> 
> There is a time in this chapter where two POV's are taking place at the same time. If things are not clear, please tell me, so I can try to make it more clear!
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Eggsy asked him dozens of questions, most of which Harry refused to answer. He couldn't tell Eggsy anything about the selection process, otherwise it wouldn't be fair to the other candidates. And, more importantly, it would take away half of the fun. 

“I can't promise anything. I just know that Tristan can never be bothered to pick a candidate until the day before, so he won't mind picking you.” The same was true for Ector, and Harry already planned on using that for his own gain too. “I'll talk to him later, okay? And then I'll tell Merlin.” 

Eggsy was beaming. “A fucking Kingsman!” he said, looking at Harry in the rear view mirror. “Holy shit!” 

“If you make it through the trials.” Harry said. He was afraid he might have made it sound like Eggsy already had the position. 

“I know, I know. But still… wait! Do you mean 'make it' as in 'be the best' or as in 'survive'?” Eggsy genuinely didn't seem to know, but it didn't bother him.

Harry smirked. There was no way he would answer this. “It's not without risks,” he just said.

Eggsy only looked more excited. 

Harry had expected Eggsy to be excited about the prospect of becoming a spy, but had expected some worries too. Eggsy's father had died under similar circumstances, after all. But that was MI6. At Kingsman, no candidate had ever died during training. He couldn't tell Eggsy that though: he needed to have the same information as the other candidates. If Merlin thought Eggsy had an unfair advantage, he would veto him being a candidate. 

Eggsy kept asking question, and Harry avoided giving a straight answer to any of them. He was relieved when Merlin finally texted him to say the coast was clear. 

“Why did Percival want to build a bomb anyway?” Eggsy asked. 

“Sometimes while in the field, something needed to be blown up, and he wanted to find out the best way to improvise a bomb with things we'd have on us anyway.” Harry tried not to grin, but failed. “And honestly it was mainly just a hobby.” 

“More exciting than learning to play the clarinet,” Eggsy commented dryly. 

Harry laughed. “Definitely.” 

****

When they reached the house, Tristan was just about to get into his car. He waited while Eggsy unfolded the ramp and Harry drove out. “Harry! Good to see you. How have you been?” He shook Harry's hand with his left hand. His right arm was in a sling. 

“I've been good. What happened to your arm?” Harry asked, while Tristan shook Eggsy's hand as well.

Tristan shrugged. “Broke it in three places. It involved some really bad timing and an elevator.” 

“I'd like to hear that story,” Harry said, grinning a bit too much for it to be appropriate, but Tristan didn't seem bothered by it. 

“You just did,” Merlin interrupted them, coming out of the house. He left the door open. “We've packed everything up. I'll dismantle it at HQ.”

“Thank you Merlin,” Harry said.

Merlin sighed loudly, and got into his car. He flipped Harry off before driving away. 

Tristan and Harry exchanged a look and laughed. “He's been mumbling the word 'brilliant' over and over while packing it up,” Tristan said. “I guess there are certain elements in this… construction… that can be helpful in the field. There's lots of things one can say about Percy, but not that he wasn't good at his job.” 

Harry smiled. “And enthusiastic about it.” He looked at Eggsy for a moment. “Tristan, do you have a moment? There's something I'd like to discuss.” 

Tristan listened to Harry's request, and then grinned and Eggsy and said “I've heard about your driving. I think you have a chance. Good luck to you.” Then he looked at Harry and said “Honestly, I'd love it if Eggsy were the new Lancelot. Would be a nice change from the whole Oxbridge-tradition.” 

“Exactly,” Harry said. 

“And I'd like to see Arthur's face when he finds out.” 

“Wouldn't we all?” Harry said. After Tristan left, he called Ector and told him he didn't need to find a candidate at last minute this year, he should simply put down the name Roxanne Morton. Ector cared so little about the whole procedure, he simply asked Harry to spell it, and that was it. 

****

The following day, Merlin came over, and his mood had changed completely. He was gushing over Percival's bomb, something about 'hidden fail-saves' and 'almost flawless delivery'. Harry let him ramble on for a while. Merlin in a good mood was more likely to agree with this. 

“Where is Eggsy?” Merlin asked after he had been going on about the bomb for a long time. 

“Packing up my books upstairs.” Harry had officially bought the new house that morning. It was fast, but he had no doubts about it. The furniture would stay, which meant he didn't have to move his own furniture to the new house either. With any luck, they could move his stuff there this very evening, meaning that Michelle and Daisy could spent their first night in their new home tonight. 

“That's great,” Merlin said, sounding genuinely happy. 

Harry knew Merlin was relieved that he would finally be leaving this house behind for good. “It is. But I actually wanted to talk about Eggsy. Now that Lancelot will be retiring, I would like Eggsy to try out for the position.” 

Merlin seemed to think that over for a moment. Then he looked Harry in the eyes and said “I thought you might be against the boy becoming a Kingsman. You know the risks.” He said it matter-of-factly, not in a judgemental way, but not pussyfooting around it either. 

Harry was hit with a deep affection for his friend. “I do,” he said. “And I also know that I want him to have what I had. The places I've seen, the people I've met, the crazy things I have done.” He laughed when he realised how true that last part was. He had done things that were truly amazing, that no one outside of Kingsman would ever do. “I know it's dangerous, but I of all people know that the risks are worth it. I wouldn't trade it for the world.”

Merlin nodded. “You know he might not make it?” 

“I do. But I think he deserves the opportunity to try. Shouldn't we give him the chance to prove he is just as good as all those university kids? If not better?” 

Merlin started smiling. “I would like to see Arthur's face.” Then his smile widened. “I assume you've talked Tristan into giving Eggsy his candidate spot?” 

“Yes.” 

Merlin narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Wait. What is that friend of Eggsy's called? Not Roxanne by any chance, right?” 

Harry grinned. “She prefers Roxy, though.” 

Merlin tried his best to look disapproving. “Arthur will have a stroke when he finds out. A council estate kid and a woman.” He laughed. “Never a dull moment with Harry Hart, is there?” 

Harry shrugged. “I do my best.” 

****

One month later:

Harry never officially asked Eggsy to move in, it just happened. At first, Eggsy was there to help paint some of the walls, and hang a chandelier in the bathroom (Harry insisted, saying “a bathroom is not complete without a chandelier”, as if that was perfectly obvious). Mr Pickle resumed his standard spot above the toilet, and Harry settled in quickly. He enjoyed the new freedom the house gave him. For the first time in years, it really dawned on him that a wheelchair was not a symbol of restriction: it was a tool for freedom.

Once every wall had been painted and every book was in place, Eggsy held up some of the framed pictures Harry had always kept in Percival's office, and asked where Harry wanted them. It was the first time in years that Harry had Percival's pictures on the walls. It felt good. After hammering in the last nail, and carefully hanging the picture of Percival standing on the Berlin wall, Eggsy turned to Harry and looked sad. “You have no need for me anymore,” he said, trying to make it sound like a light-hearted joke. 

It was true, in a way. Harry didn't need Eggsy's help anymore. Not around the house. “Come here,” he said, smiling at Eggsy. 

Eggsy pouted, but came closer, until he was so close that Harry could wrap his arms around him and pull him onto his lap. Eggsy placed his hand on the back of Harry's neck, and grinned at him. “Oh, I see. You need me for sexual purposes.” He nuzzled Harry's shoulder, and softly bit his earlobe. 

“Of course.” Harry mumbled. Sometimes he was still surprised that Eggsy loved him, but he never doubted it. Things that seemed too good to be true often were, but in this case it was true. Eggsy loved him. Harry often found himself smiling, just thinking about Eggsy, whether he was there with him or not. He loved the sound of the doorbell ringing, and he hated the sound of the door closing in the evening, but he hadn't had the guts yet to ask Eggsy to simply stay. Luckily, he didn't have to. 

Eggsy kissed the soft skin under Harry's ear, slowly making a trail of kisses over his cheek until he reached his lips. “It's started snowing,” Eggsy whispered, and kissed him. 

Harry let himself be lost in the kiss for a while before he opened his eyes. Eggsy was right; without Harry noticing, the world outside had started to turn into a Christmas card. A thin layer of snow covered the rooftops and the trees, like powdered sugar, giving everything a romantic feel. 

“I don't think I can go home in this blizzard,” Eggsy said, failing to keep a straight face. The snow was falling very slowly, and there was no wind at all. 

Harry grinned and nodded. “Best not to take risks. I couldn't send you out in a horrible storm like this.” 

“Yes. I think we'll have to wait this out. In your bed. Together. For uhh… warmth.” Eggsy winked at Harry, and cheekily moved the joystick of the wheelchair, making it drive towards the hallway. 

Harry laughed and gently placed his hand over Eggsy's so he could drive himself. It was best to arrive in the bedroom in one piece. 

Eggsy kept sitting in Harry's lap until they were in the bedroom, then he got up and watched Harry pull himself up using the grab bar on the wall next to the bed, and sit down on the edge of the bed. 

Harry felt nervous in a good way; excited and in love. Eggsy jumped up and down a bit, shaking his arms. It made Harry laugh. “Nervous?” he asked. 

Eggsy stopped jumping and sat down on Harry's lap again, facing him. His knees were on either side of Harry's hips, and his arms around Harry's shoulders. “Uhu. Yeah.”

“Me too,” Harry admitted. They had been together for two months, and it finally felt right. He was glad they were taking things slow, for both of them. There was no rush. 

Eggsy kissed him slowly, moving his hands down from Harry's shoulders to his back, going lower and lower until he reached the edge of Harry's sweater. “May I?” he asked.

Harry pulled back a bit, and looked Eggsy in the eyes. “I have…” 

“Scars?” Eggsy asked, softly touching Harry's cheeks. “I know. I have seen them, remember?” 

Yes, he had seen some of them when he helped Harry button up his trousers. It seemed ages ago that Harry had not been able to do it himself. “I don't mean those ones, I mean...” he didn't mind Eggsy seeing the scars that he had suffered in the field. He minded the long, pale scar on his arm, the one he had inflicted on himself. 

Eggsy kissed his forehead softly. “It's just one more battlescar, isn't it?” He smiled at Harry. 

He was right. Just one more battlescar. A constant reminder that he had won against his greatest enemy: his own mind turning on him. Harry smiled, and kissed Eggsy on the lips. “I love you,” he said. 

Eggsy made a high-pitched squealy-noise, and blushed all the way to his neck. “I love you too,” he said, and covered his face with his hands for a moment. “Fuck, I love you so bloody much!” He wrapped his arms around Harry's shoulders again, pressing their bodies together as closely as possible. Harry could feel Eggsy's heartbeat against his own chest. 

Eggsy pulled back and put his hands on Harry's chest. He moved them down slowly again, looking Harry in the eyes the entire time, asking for permission. Harry nodded softly. Eggsy hooked his thumbs under the fabric and slowly pulled the sweater up. Harry stretched his arms above his head so Eggsy could take the sweater off him in one go. Eggsy bit his lip looking at Harry's chest, tracing the scars with his fingertips. He took Harry's hand and moved it to his mouth. He kissed the back of his hand, then the inside of his wrist where the scar started and placed small kissed all along the scar to the elbow. “Just a battlescar,” he repeated. Then he softly pushed Harry over, so he was lying on his back, and took his own pullover off. 

Eggsy's body was a sight to behold. He was lean, his skin was smooth and covered with birthmarks. Harry wanted to kiss every single one of them. 

And, he realised, he could. 

****

In hindsight, it seemed ridiculous that they had been nervous about sex. As it turned out, it wasn't a problem at all. Eggsy woke up in the middle of the night with his arms wrapped around Harry and his head on Harry's shoulder. It was the best feeling in the world. 

Eggsy didn't go home the following morning. Or the day after. He only went home to move his clothes into Harry's bedroom, and stopped ringing the doorbell when he had been away. 

Christmas got closer, and Eggsy kept asking Harry about the Lancelot-trials. Harry still refused to answer his questions. They bought a Christmas tree together, and put a little angel on Mr Pickle's back and a Christmas hat on his head. 

On Christmas morning, Eggsy was gone. Harry heard him sneak in, whispering at someone. Harry pretended to be asleep as Eggsy opened the door to the bedroom softly. A moment later, Eggsy jumped onto the bed, shouting “HARRY! IT'S CHRISTMAS!” 

Harry opened his eyes, watching in amusement as Eggsy jumped up and down on the bed, narrowly avoiding stepping on Harry. 

Eggsy was beaming. “Get up Harry!!!” He leaned down and tried to pull Harry up, but Harry pulled him down and wrapped his arms around him. “Merry Christmas!” Harry said, and kissed Eggsy. Eggsy grinned at him. “Yeah yeah, jolly times for all, happy birthday baby Jesus, now COME ON! It's time for presents!”

Harry rolled his eyes, but got up. 

Eggsy made impatient gestures while Harry pulled himself into his chair, and ran into the living room. He was waiting next to the tree with a present in his hands, looking at a box under the tree. “OPEN IT!” he shouted, and flung the present at Harry. 

Harry caught it, and unwrapped it. It was a collar with the name Mrs Pancake on it. He started laughing. 

Eggsy grinned while Harry moved closer until he could look into the box. The puppy looked up at him with big, brown eyes. It was a Golden retriever, which indeed had the colour of a pancake. Eggsy picked it up, and placed it in Harry's lap. 

Harry fell in love with her immediately. The dog sniffed his hands curiously, and almost wandered off his lap, but he softly pushed it back onto his legs. “Hello cutie!” he whispered. He looked at Eggsy, who was taking a picture with his phone. “She is amazing!” he said. 

Eggsy leaned down and first kissed Harry, and then planted a kiss on top of the puppy's head. “Isn't she? I took one look and was sold.” 

“I know the feeling.” Harry said, in the exact moment the doorbell rang. “That's Merlin,” he said, “bringing your present.” 

Eggsy made an excited noise and ran to the door. 

“Merry Christmas,” Merlin said, rolling his eyes. He was wearing a truly horrible sweater under his open coat, but Eggsy's attention was focussed on the box in Merlin's arms. “Oh my God!”

The puppy was white with black spots, and was panting happily. 

“Come in,” Eggsy said, never taking his eyes off the puppy. 

Merlin came in, shut the door with his heel, and carefully set the box down on the floor. “Great minds think alike,” he said, looking at the puppy on Harry's lap with amusement. 

Eggsy sat down and picked the puppy up. The pup immediately started licking his face. 

“Three dogs, eh?” Merlin said, exchanging a look with Harry. 

“Three?” Eggsy asked.

“Forget I said that,” Merlin said, winking at Harry. “Merry Christmas. Eggsy, I'll see you on the second of January. Harry knows the details.” 

“The trials?!” Eggsy asked. 

“Remember, not a word!” Merlin said, and after giving Harry one last warning look, closed the door behind him. 

“Yes. That's all I can say.” Harry grinned. “Now come here and open your present.” 

Eggsy got up with the dog in his arms. “What kind of dog is it? A Labrador?” 

“Pfft! No!” Harry said. “How can you not see that?! Anyway, you'll find out in a moment.” 

Eggsy followed him back into the living room. There was one present left under the three -they had made a promise to not get each other gifts they didn't need- and opened it. It was a collar saying “Mr Danish”.

Mr Danish. Like the pastry? How did this help him with knowing which… “Dammit Harry! Is that a fucking pun?” Eggsy yelled, laughing. 

Harry looked at him with a shit-eating grin on his face. “I thought I'd stay with the food theme. Danish pastry. Great Dane.” 

“Fucking hell!” Eggsy said. “I love it!” 

Harry put Mrs Pancake onto the floor, and she and Mr Danish approached each other, wagging their tails.

“What did Merlin mean when he said 'three dogs'?” Eggsy asked.

As if Merlin could somehow sense that Eggsy asked it, Harry received a text that said _Don't tell Eggsy or Roxy anything that might give them an unfair advantage. Okay? Just don't tell them anything at all._

He texted back _I won't, I promise_. “I swore I wouldn't tell you anything about the trials, and I'm keeping that promise.” Harry said to Eggsy.

 _Trust me, I'll know it if you do_ Merlin texted. Even as a text, it sounded threatening. 

Harry texted back: _I swear I won't tell them about this_. 

****

“Harry, you could have fucking told me about this!” Eggsy said. He stormed into Merlin's office, with his dog under his arm. “This is fucking sick! How could you ask this of me?!”

Harry was heartbroken. Eggsy had made it through the bloody parachute test, the traintest, everything… and then he had refused to pull the trigger when Tristan told him to. 

Eggsy was still looking at him, seething with rage. He petted the dog he had chosen, a tiny pug called Dr Oetker. Eggsy thought it was a bulldog. Unbelievable. Harry had not burst his bubble yet. “How can Tristan expect me to kill my dog? Is that how Mr Pickle died?” He looked as heartbroken as Harry felt. 

Harry shook his head. “Sit down.” He was disappointed. Of course he had feared this would happen, but he had hoped that the trust Eggsy had in Tristan would be enough to make him take the shot. 

“Why?!”

“To see if Roxy does what you couldn't do.” 

Roxy was that much more collected than Eggsy. She would not go into a rage being asked to shoot her dog. Instead, she would calmly think it over, realise that they wouldn't let her harm an animal, and do it.

Eggsy was still shaking, but he sat down and watched the screen, where Roxy was waiting for Ector. Ector came in, made some smalltalk, and then handed her a gun. “Shoot the dog.” 

Roxy looked at him for a moment, and then at her dog. Then, for some reason, she looked up. It was just a fraction of a second, but she looked right into the camera. “No.” she said calmly.

Harry could not believe it. 

Neither could Ector, apparently. “No?” he asked.

“No,” she said confidently.

“You can go,” Ector said. 

“Thank you,” Roxy said with a polite smile. She handed the gun back, petted her dog's head softly, and got up. “Come,” she said, and the poodle followed her outside.

Ector looked at the camera and shook his head in disbelief.

“She couldn't.” Eggsy said. “Of course not. Why would you think she would?” 

“Because,” Harry said slowly, “I figured miss Morton would realise that-”

“That they were blanks,” Roxy finished his sentence, busting through the door. “You didn't do it either, did you?” she asked Eggsy. 

He shook his head, still confused. 

“Thank God!” she said, and hugged him. She looked at Harry. “And now what? We both failed.” 

“You deliberately failed?” Eggsy asked. How? Why? Just… what the fuck? 

She rolled her eyes, and nodded. “Obviously. I knew you wouldn't do it. But like I asked, now what? There's two of us left. Is there another test?” 

Harry shook his head. “I think… and I'm not sure, but I think this means that there are-” 

“Two idiots in this room,” Merlin finished the sentence for him. He came in, looking incredibly angry. “That was incredibly risky of you, Roxy.” he said. “And really fucking stupid of you!” he said to Eggsy. “Have you never taken a good look at Mr Pickle? That dog was fifteen years old when it finally died!” He sighed loudly. “You will be the death of me!” 

Eggsy looked at him, scratching his head nervously “What does this mean for us?” 

Merlin rubbed his face with both hands. “There is no bloody precedent, so I guess that as the person responsible for the candidates, I get to make the choice.” 

All three of them exchanged alarmed looks, and then looked at Merlin, who was covering his eyes with his hands. Roxy deserved the spot more that Eggsy, that much was clear. She was better at fighting, was calmer in life-or-death situations, had the big advantage that she spoke Russian, and most importantly, she would have shot the dog. Of course she would be the new Lancelot. Despite her trying to give Eggsy another chance, it would be her. 

Merlin looked at the ground as he thought it over. Then he sighed again, and extended his hand to Roxy. “Welcome, Lancelot.” 

Roxy held her head up high as she shook his hand, but she didn't look happy at all. 

“Congratulations. Could you wait for me downstairs?” Merlin said.

Roxy nodded. She grabbed her dog by the collar and looked at the ground while she left. 

“Fuck,” Eggsy whispered. He should have shot the bloody dog. Why didn't he just take a moment to think about it? He had thrown away the one chance he had at a truly fulfilling job, but that was not all. There was a more important reason why he had wanted this position, and the opportunities that came with it. It might be the only way he could ever repay Harry. 

Harry touched the small of his back. “It's okay,” he said, but he didn't manage to sound convincing. He was disappointed, perhaps even more than Eggsy. He didn't know the true reason Eggsy felt this awful. 

Eggsy couldn't look at him. There were tears building up in his eyes, making his vision blurry. “Can we just go home?” he asked Harry, wiping his eyes. His voice was shaking, and he knew he would break down any moment.

Harry took his hand, and was about to leave with him, when Merlin spoke up.

“Hold on,” Merlin said. He sounded angry. “I'm not fucking finished!” 

Eggsy could really do without being yelled at even more. He had fucked up, he knew that. He would regret this moment for the rest of his life, but it was his own fault. Roxy had done what she could, and it wasn't enough. This one was on him alone. 

“I hate these bloody trials!” Merlin said. 

Eggsy wanted to ask “So what?”, but just clenched his jaw to keep it from shaking. 

“Look, it's not a nice thing to say, but statistically speaking, someone is going to either die or retire within the next two years. These trials take a fuckload of time, half the Kingsmen can't be bothered to put any thought into who they pick as a candidate, and with every person who fails the tests, the odds of us becoming known are bigger. The reason we're looking for one candidate is simply because we've always had the same amount of Kingsman agents.” Merlin sounded irritated.

Where was he going with this? Eggsy did not allow himself to hope, not yet. He looked up at Merlin carefully.

Merlin had his eyes closed, and stood with his hands in his sides, like a schoolteacher who was facing an unruly class. “Arthur is gonna have my bloody head for this...” Merlin shook his head and opened his eyes. “All the cool names are gone, but beggars can't be choosers. Once one of the current agents leaves, you might get to use their old name, but for now I want to say this: Welcome Ywain.” 

Eggsy's yaw dropped. “Holy Fucking Shit!” He looked at Harry, who seemed just as shocked as him. “Are you serious? Am I…? I am a fucking Kingsman?” 

Merlin still looked incredibly angry, and Eggsy was afraid he would yell “Of course not!” but instead Merlin just nodded and said “And now I have a fuckload of paperwork to do, so I suggest the both of you piss off, pronto!” 

Eggsy let go of Harry's hand and flung himself at Merlin, he threw his arms around him and shouted “Thank you Merlin!” while Merlin just stood there and didn't return the hug. 

Eggsy let go quickly -Merlin might still break his neck for what he'd done- and ran after Harry, who was already disappearing through the door. He caught up with Harry, taking his hand and squeezing it tightly. “I can't fucking believe it!” 

Harry beamed at him. “Me neither! So let's go before Merlin changes his mind!” Harry was going topspeed, and Eggsy had to run to keep up. They were both giggling like schoolboys, making their way through the hallway as fast as they could. 

Eggsy pushed the button for the elevator, and jumped back as the doors immediately opened and Roxy jumped at him, screaming “SO?!” 

Eggsy pulled her into his arms, jumping up and down, and said “I'm a bloody Kingsman too!” 

“AAAAAHH!” Roxy screamed, pushed him away, and did a weird little tapdance. “Fucking amazing!” 

“I KNOW!” 

Roxy hugged Harry, squeezing him so tight Eggsy could hear it knock the wind out of him, and then said “So, what's your codename? Lancelot two? Since I'm obviously superior?” she winked at him.

“My name is Ywain.” Eggsy said proudly. 

Harry snorted. 

It slowly dawned on Eggsy why the name sounded so familiar, and he realised why Merlin had chosen that name for him. He chuckled. “Did he just call me a bastard?” Amazing.

“Yes,” Harry said cheerfully.

“Huh.” Eggsy shrugged. “Fair enough.” 

Harry looked at both of them with pride. “I think this calls for a celebration. Drinks are on me.” 

Roxy and Eggsy exchanged looks. “Challenge accepted,” Roxy said.

“What?” Harry asked. He looked at Eggsy. “There was no challenge. Eggsy? What does she mean?” He looked confused, and a little scared.

“Challenge accepted, indeed!” Eggsy said. 

“Seriously, what do you guys mean by-?” 

“You'll see,” Eggsy said, and grinned at Roxy. In a few hours, all of them would be glad there were no stairs in Eggsy and Harry's house.

****

One year later:

Eggsy pointed at the framed receipt, and said “I still can't fucking believe we spent exactly 300 pounds on drinks alone!” 

Harry groaned. “I still get a headache when I think about that night.” It was a year ago to the day, and all three of them had agreed it was best to never find out what had happened exactly. There had been some pictures on their phones of Eggsy dancing on a table, a few very blurry ones of a policecar (but no records of anyone being arrested) and some crooked selfies of the three of them together. Roxy had woken up in her own home, but had been at Harry's at some point in the night, since there were pictures of her crying with Mr Pickle in her arms, trying to feed him a piece of cucumber. 

“I'm gonna walk the dogs real quick, and then I'm off, okay?” Eggsy asked. He whistled, and Dr Oetker, Mrs Pancake and Mr Danish all came running from the living room. Mr Danish jumped onto the bed and snuggled up besides Harry. “Oi! Don't go replacing me!” Eggsy said to the great Dane. 

Harry put his arm around the dog. “Don't listen to him. He's a big meanie,” he whispered loudly enough for Eggsy to hear. 

Eggsy rolled his eyes. “Pancake! Leashes!” he said, and the golden retriever ran back into the living room and returned with the three leashed in her mouth. 

Harry watched in amusement while Eggsy struggled to put the leashes on the three collars. “When will you be back?” he asked. 

“I dunno, half an hour?” Eggsy said.

“You know what I mean.” Harry said. Eggsy was leaving later, most likely going abroad, and he refused to tell Harry where he was going. 

“I don't know yet,” Eggsy said, like he had said every time Harry asked him. He was not going on a mission, Harry knew that much. Merlin said there were no missions planned for Eggsy, but he didn't know anything else. “See you in a bit!” Eggsy said, blew Harry a kiss, and left with the dogs. 

Harry got up, and started making breakfast. He was worried, even though he knew he had no reason to be. Eggsy was a good agent, very good. His weapon scores had always been excellent on the shooting range, and were excellent in the field as well. It was just that they didn't have any secrets from each other, and Harry didn't like not knowing where Eggsy would be at all. He wanted to know that he was safe. 

****

Eggsy knew that Harry was worried about him, which made him feel bad, but he simply couldn't tell him where he was going. What if it all went wrong? 

Well, if it went totally wrong he would not be coming back, but if it only went a little wrong he didn't want to have to explain what he'd been up to. This was it: his one shot. 

Literally.

He walked the dogs, and tried not to think of the possibility that it could be the last time. There was an email in his drafts, which would only be sent if he wasn't there to delete it within a week. It was an explanation of sorts, and an apology. He hoped Harry would never need to read it. The first phase of his plan had worked, and now he only had to finish it. 

Before going back inside, Eggsy knelt down next to the dogs and whispered “Take care of Harry, okay?” He told himself that they understood. 

Harry had made breakfast. Eggsy could feel him watching him the whole time, but Harry didn't ask again. 

“I need to go now,” Eggsy said. He'd brought his luggage to Roxy's place a week ago. Harry didn't need to know he'd be bringing his sniper rifle on his little retreat. Eggsy leaned across the table and kissed Harry, who gave him a sad smile. 

“No matter what it is, I do know you must have your reasons, so… good luck. I mean that.” 

“Thank you,” Eggsy said. He was starting to get nervous. He couldn't fuck this up. He would never forgive himself if he did. “Don't forget to take your pills. I love you. I'll call you once I know when I'll be back.” 

“Okay,” Harry said, and squeezed his hand softly. Maybe he realised that Eggsy truly meant that he'd call once he knew _if_ he'd be coming back. “I love you too.” 

Eggsy felt like crying when he left. He did have his reasons. And all those reasons were called Harry Hart. 

****

His whole plan revolved around the nasty habits of a Belgian politician. Once a week, this man went to a small restaurant in one of the poorer parts of Maastricht, in the Netherlands, just across the border. Five months ago, Eggsy had put an end to some exotic animal trafficking that was taking place there. Kingsman had kept an eye out, and soon discovered that the owner of the “restaurant” now used it for prostitution. While prostitution was legal there, Merlin did check whether some of the prostitutes working there might be victims of human trafficking. They weren't, but he had started laughing when he saw the client lists, and saw the name of Belgian politician Cornelis de Rooij on it. “He's always preaching that people should follow God. Seems like he was following his dick!” Merlin had said. It hadn't seemed important then. It was now.

Eggsy had gotten the word out about a hit on Cornelis de Rooij a month ago. The orders were simple: make it look like a robbery gone wrong rather than an assassination-attempt, preferably a drive-by shooting. Do it at night. Make sure no one will be able to confirm that the person shooting him had known he was an important political figure. Don't kill him, just make him end up in hospital. My people will take it from there. We need him alive.

It wasn't like Eggsy had a grudge against this person. In fact, he couldn't care less about him. No, the reason was completely different. Eggsy had spent months trying to find the woman who had shot and paralysed Harry, until he realised he didn't have to find her. Pelageya Gorbunova would find him. Or rather, she would find her target. Cornelis de Rooij had many enemies. It would be believable that someone would order a hit on him. 

Eggsy worked on it in his spare time, going through more case files than he could find, finding out which people might have been a victim of this specific assassin. Then he had worked back from there. Eventually, someone Eggsy was sent to kill, who he suspected to have been in contact with Pelageya before, was willing to talk. A lot of money had exchanged hands for this order to go into the right direction, but it would be worth it soon. 

Everything would be worth it for Harry to not have nightmares anymore. 

They always started the same way, as far as Eggsy could tell. Harry would try to turn in his sleep, and the impossibility of that movement would trigger something in him, a memory probably. He would try to turn even harder, try to get away from something that only existed in his mind. His upper body would move to the side, and he'd start sweating. Eggsy knew what he dreamed in those times: he tried to move away from the bullet that hit his spine, but just like in reality, he couldn't avoid being hit. 

Eggsy wanted this torment to stop. Once and for all. 

The reason he had chosen de Rooij was not just because he suspected that Pelageya wouldn't bother with someone not well known. If she did, he would have chosen Dean as bait. No, it was because the brothel he visited every week was relatively isolated. Pelageya would watch him, notice his behaviours, and come to the conclusion that it was the most obvious place to shoot him. It minimised the chance of innocent bystanders getting hit, and there were many abandoned buildings in the neighbourhood which she could use as a hiding place. 

And Eggsy had been there before. He had staked out the restaurant, waiting for a shipment of illegal birds to come in. He'd be able to guess where she would set up her gear, or at least, he hoped so. He could prepare accordingly. 

Eggsy planned on getting to Pelageya before she took her shot, but still he hadn't wanted to put in an actual kill-order. If he didn't make it... well, in that case he didn't want to be responsible for a murder, no matter how despicable that person was. He had read up on de Rooij, had found out that he was racist, homophobic, and proud of it. The kind of person who gave religion a bad name. If things went awry, if de Rooij got wounded, he had deserved it. But he didn't need to die. 

Eggsy tried not to picture Harry home alone with the dogs, waiting for him to come back. He never felt like this when he was on a mission. Why would this be different? _Because everything could go horribly wrong_. Normally, on missions, Merlin kept an eye out. This was not an official mission. There was no extraction team, no one would be watching through his glasses, no one would be there to warn him if something went wrong. He was on his own. 

He arrived in Maastricht that evening. One of the abandoned buildings across the brothel would be his home for the next few days. It was difficult to fall asleep, even though the sleeping bag he had “borrowed” from Kingsman was warm enough. Eggsy kept thinking about Harry. He needed to keep reminding himself why he was here: not to murder Pelageya Gorbunova, but to stop her from harming or killing anyone ever again. One way or another.

In a strange way, it wasn't his decision whether she lived or died. 

It was hers.

****

**POV Pelageya Gorbunova**

The price on the politician's head was high, but not suspiciously so. She watched him for two weeks. He had the habit of going to a remote area once every week, on the same day, at the same time. She would only have to wait for him and take the shot. It seemed like he would be an easy target.

Seemed.

Jobs were rarely that simple. 

Her suspicions were correct. A young man arrived one evening, on his own, with no obvious purpose. He slept in one of the many empty buildings that formed a C-shape with the one she was in, less than twenty meters from where she would take the shot next time de Rooij arrived. Pelageya knew how to watch someone without being noticed. She watched the young man set up a sniper rifle, and by the way he did it, she could tell he had done this before. 

Interesting.

Either the person who had employed her wanted to be absolutely sure de Rooij got what he deserved and had hired a second sniper. Or someone had found out she was here, and this man was here to kill her. 

How very ambitious of him.

He was a professional, there was no doubt about that. But he was also young, inexperienced. In the night before de Rooij would come, the young man sneaked out of 'his' apartment, and left. He stopped on the corner of the street, where he was almost out of sight, and called someone. She pointed her directional microphone at him, and listened intently. He was ordering a cab to the airport. While keeping an eye on him, she looked up the flight information for flights to England; his accent was unmistakably British. It checked out. There was a flight leaving in a few hours. So he was going home, which could only mean his job here was done.

She waited until he had gotten into the cab and it drove off. Then she went into the building he had been in, and carefully walked up the stairs. She was aware there could be boobytraps, so she didn't open the door of the apartment he'd been in. Instead, she took her tubecamera out of the inner pocket of her coat. The camera looked like a thick wire with a screen attached, and it was narrow enough to fit through the old-fashioned keyhole. As expected, there was no one in the room. The sniper rifle was still there though, and there was something attached to it: a timer. 

She smirked. While the rifle had been pointed at the door of the brothel yesterday, now it was pointing at the exact spot she would likely have taken the shot from if she hadn't noticed the young man. So he had been sent to kill her. And he had underestimated her. 

Maybe he was one of those odd agents, like the one she had stopped seven years ago. No wonder he put the rifle on a timer: no one wanted to be a bloody cripple. She smirked again. Typical men. Did they really think it would be so easy? She knew exactly how they had found her: someone in the long line of people who got the requests to her must have been captured by them, and had talked. They weren't idiots, they knew from where she'd take the shot. And they also thought it too risky to have one of their agents be there. 

Cornelis de Rooij would not make it to the brothel tonight. Those agents would probably not risk letting him go there, despite the rifle that was waiting for her. Pelageya prided herself on one thing, and that was that she left no job unfinished. If de Rooij wasn't coming to her, she would have to go to him.

And after that, she would deal with that little boy who thought he could outsmart her. She knew where he would be the next few hours. 

She had all the time in the world.

Pelageya didn't leave a paper trail when she travelled. She had no rental car here, so she stole one. Driving to de Rooij's house, she kept an eye out for his car. She swore softly in Russian when she saw the roadblock on the other side of the road. If he was stuck there, it was incredibly risky to shoot him while driving past. Too many witnesses. But his car was nowhere to be seen. 

Undoubtedly, those agents had indeed warned him not to go to the brothel tonight. But would they actually be physically present to protect him, or would they assume their little sniper-trap would work? 

She soon found out that things were more complex than that. De Rooij's house was surrounded by police. Not those agents. Real police. De Rooij's car was gone though, which puzzled her for a moment. Had he been taken into protective custody? But then why would all the police be there? One officer spotted her, sitting in her car, watching them. She had a gun in her hand, which he would not be able to see from where he was standing. He came over. She smiled politely and rolled the window down. “What is going on?” she asked in English. 

“A bomb threat. You should leave, miss.” the officer said. 

She thanked him, and drove off. Goddammit. All of this was related. The person who had hired her to wound de Rooij, also wanted to threaten his family. The bomb threat would turn out to be a false alarm, no doubt about it. This person, whoever they were, wanted to pressure the Rooij into something. Very well. Her employer couldn't have known that one of his underlings would talk. She grinned. De Rooij had left before the bomb threat came through. He was on his way to the brothel already. And those agents didn't know she would finish her job anyway, just from another spot. And after that, she'd find and torture this young man. It would surprise him how fast he would give away his secrets.

****

At the same time:

Eggsy told the cabdriver he had changed his mind. The cabbie was irritated at first, but changed his tune when Eggsy gave him more cash than it would have cost him if he'd been driven to the airport. He let the cab drop him off a few streets from his actual destination. He knew which route de Rooij would take, and so would Pelageya. He asked the cabbie to wait, which he agreed to after the promise of more money, and went around the corner, so the cabbie wouldn't see what he was doing. Eggsy put on a pair of rubber gloves, then he called the police. 

“112. What's your emergency?” The operator said in the soft spoken Dutch of the Maastricht-area.

“I just saw a little girl being taken! Some guy dragged her into his car!” Eggsy said in English.

The operator immediately switched to English as well. “Where was this?” 

Eggsy said the streetname he had memorised, and added “He was one the phone with someone, saying he'd be in Maastricht in an hour!” 

After giving “all the info he had” and giving a fake name, he hung up. They would put a roadblock on the exact road de Rooij would have taken. 

He threw away his mobile phone, and took the second one out of his pocket. He waited for a few minutes (de Rooij left at exactly the same time each day, like clockwork), and called the police again. This time, he spoke Dutch. He'd had a lot of time to practise, after all. “Ik kan u niet vertellen hoe ik dit weet, maar er ligt een bom in het huis van de Vlaamse politicus Cornelis de Rooij.” He hung up, and threw away this phone as well. Bomb threats on politicians tended to get taken seriously. There would be police surrounding de Rooij's house within minutes. Even if Pelageya made it to his house, it would be too risky wait for him to come back and kill him there. And she couldn't kill him on his usual route, because he'd have to take a detour. Eggsy could only hope it would be enough. 

Exactly when he had expected him to, de Rooij's car went around the corner. Eggsy held out his hand, waving it frantically. He pretty much stepped onto the road to keep de Rooij from driving past him. He went up to his window. 

De Rooij looked at him with suspicion. He had an old-fashioned haircut, wore a check shirt, like he did on all photos of him in existence, and high-waisted jeans. 

“Sorry to stop you like this,” Eggsy said in Dutch, and continued in English, saying that he'd just heard on the radio that there had been a major accident on the highway he was meant to take, and that the whole road was closed off, and that he needed to know which route he should take now. 

De Rooij told him which road to take, then excused himself, saying he was running late as well, and drove off. 

Eggsy thanked him, and waited until he was out of sight, then he took off the gloves, put them in his pocket, and went back to the cab. “Take me back to where you picked me up, please.” 

The cabbie grinned. “Anything for you, my friend!” 

****

Pelageya laughed out loud when she saw de Rooij's car parked in front of the brothel. She only had to wait until he came out again, and then she could put a bullet through him. Maybe she would paralyse him, to send a message to all agents that thought they could outsmart her. She'd do the same thing to the young man. He probably knew the agent she had done that to before. No one would try to stop her after that.

She got out of the car, right at the moment she saw something from the corner of her eyes. A small movement in the window of the building where she would have been. The window there was broken, of course; the bullet that would have hit her had shattered the glass. The person there, whoever is was, jumped out of sight quickly, but she was sure it was the young man from before. So he had not gone to the airport. He was here to remove her body, and had now found out that there was no body. And he had seen her. 

Pelageya kept her eyes on the window and kept her whole body behind the car. She held her gun aimed at the window, and waited. The man appeared again. She pulled the trigger, but wasn't sure she had hit him. There was no sound of him going down, no scream, nothing. She saw a gun, just a fraction of a second, then the front tire of her car exploded. Either this boy's aim was terrible, or incredibly good. If he had meant to sabotage her car, that was incredibly naive of him. She didn't need the car to get out of here alive. She only needed to kill him. And she would. Killing was easy. It was her job. 

Something flew towards her, something small and golden. She looked at it for just a second. It was a lighter. Meant to distract her? But she was still behind the car, and he was still on his own, so why-

The lighter exploded in a shockwave of smoke and flying pieces of metal. None of the debris hit her, it was too far away, but perhaps next time his aim would be more precise. She had to end this now, but she couldn't hit him from here. She either had to go into the building he was in, which meant he would be at an advantage, or go into the building behind her, the one where he had set up his rifle. She opened the door of her car, started it, and gave it a gentle push. It started rolling forwards, and she walked with it, so her body was still behind the car at all times, until she was next to the entrance of the building. She opened the door and ran in. 

This time she didn't have to worry about boobytraps. She went up the stairs, to the room where the rifle had been, and opened the door. The rifle was still there. 

She made sure she was not in view while she walked towards the window. A note had appeared on the other window of the room where the man was now. She looked through the scope of the rifle. The note said “I will give you one chance to surrender.” 

She laughed. She would never surrender. Why would she? There was nothing he could do to hurt her, just like there was nothing she could do to hurt him, as long as both of them stayed away from the windows. She didn't have to kill him. He wasn't her main target: de Rooij was. He would be coming out of the brothel any moment now, and there was nothing the boy could do to stop her. 

“Surrender!” she heard him scream. “I will take you alive! Come out of the building, or you will die!” 

Bullshit. He could do nothing to harm her from where he was, and by leaving the building he would get himself killed. 

“Come out now! Lay down your weapons!” 

She laughed. “Why should I?” she replied. 

“Because there is a bomb on the floor above you, and it will go of whenever I want it to!” The man sounded smug now, or at least he tried to. Something else was shining through, an emotion she didn't recognise. Either he was lying, or he wasn't sure the bomb would work. 

Pelageya wouldn't go down this easily. She wouldn't trust him on his word. Checking didn't hurt. First, she looked up, wearing her infrared goggles. There was no one upstairs waiting to kill her. She sneaked out of the room, and went up the stairs. The door to the room was open. 

Hundreds of lighters like the one he had thrown at her, were lined up at the walls, connected by countless wires. There was a note on the ground, saying “This is your last chance. Step out of the building unarmed, and you will be arrested. If you don't, you won't make it out of here alive.” 

Pelageya had faced bombs before. This one was unlike any she had ever seen. If it even was a bomb, the design was horrible. Some of the wires connected to a mobile phone. She looked at all the wires, followed them with her eyes, and figured it out. It was all painfully obvious. This poor young man. She'd almost feel sorry for him. So much ambition, so little intelligence to back it up. 

“Come out of the building!” she heard him scream. 

“I will!” she screamed back, trying to make her voice sound scared. It bought her some time. After looking over the wires one last time, she took one between both hands, and snapped it, as easy as tearing apart a piece of string dangling on your coat. Nothing happened. She had disabled the bomb. 

But the boy didn't know that. He thought he had the upper hand. 

Pelageya took her small handgun out of her inner pocket, and put it in the waistband of her trousers, behind her back. Then she walked downstairs. “I'm coming out!” she screamed, slowly opened the door, not going through it yet, only showing her hands. She slowly laid the rest of her weapons on the ground. “You said you wouldn't hurt me!” Again, she tried to sound scared. “Show me that you lay your weapons down as well, then I'll come out!” 

“Okay!” he said. The young man was still upstairs. For a moment, there was only silence. Then the door of the building opened slowly, and he came out, with his hands in the air, seemingly unarmed. “Come out and lie down with you hands above your h-” 

It only took her a fraction of a second to move her hand behind her back, get the gun, and shoot him in the kneecap.

He flinched when the bullet hit him, but didn't scream. 

She looked at him with bewilderment. How was he not in agony from the pain? She could see the bullet stick out of his kneecap from where she was standing, there was no way she had not hit him. Pelageya always hit her target. It was impossible! Reflexively, she took a step back, into the building, something was wrong, terribly so. The suit. Somehow, the suit had stopped the bullet. It was the only explanation. She shook off the mild panic his lack of reaction had put her in, and braced herself to opened the door again and shoot him in the face this time. No suit could protect him from that. 

“You lied to me, Pelageya Gorbunova! And there is just one thing you need to know about me: I never lie!” 

Famous last words. She ripped open the door, and just saw a glimpse of the boy holding a mobile phone in his hand, then something above her exploded and the entire building came down at once. 

****

Cornelis de Rooij heard the blast from the dimly lit room he was in. He ran to the window, pushing aside the prostitute who was doing a striptease for him, and looked outside. Where there had been a building just a moment ago, there was just rubble. A man stood in front of the building, holding a cellphone in his hand. The man turned around, saw de Rooij, and came over. 

Shit shit shit. He could not be seen here! What did the man want? Had he just blown up that building? What the hell was going on? De Rooij ran to the bed, and gathered his clothes, hastily putting them on.

The young man knocked on the window, and the prostitute -the foolish thing- turned around in surprise and opened the window. 

“Twee is extra,” she said. 

The young man laughed, and said in heavily accented Dutch “I'm not here to join you. I'm here to tell Cornelis de Rooij that I just saved his life, and that I would prefer it if he went home to his family to show them he is okay, and to console them after the bomb threat that has been made on them.” 

“BOMB THREAT?” de Rooij said, flabbergasted. How? Why? But… the building here had exploded. “What did just…?” he pointed at the rubble weakly. 

The young man shrugged. He looked sad. “Not many people get a second chance, and even if they do, it's up to them if they take it,” he said in English. “Now, mister de Rooij, I have given you a second change. And I suggest you DO use it.” 

The prostitute, who seemingly still had not noticed the fact that a whole building was gone, looked at the young man and said “Jij bent om op te eten!”. She winked at him.

He grinned back at her, and said “I have no clue what that means, but I'll take it as a compliment.” He reached into his jacket, took out a wad of cash, and handed it to the woman. “Because I was never here.” He winked at her, then he looked at de Rooij. “And I don't have to tell you that neither of US was ever here, do I?” 

De Rooij was at loss for words.

“Do I?” the young man repeated, sounding threatening all of a sudden.

“No no! We were never here!” perhaps he would be able to keep this out of the papers. 

“Good,” the young man said. “Take care.” He waved at the prostitute, who looked smitten, and turned around. 

Cornelis looked at him until he went around a corner. He felt shaken. God had sent this man, this angel, to save him from his wicked ways. “I… I don't think we can see each other again,” he stuttered. 

The prostitute raised an eyebrow. Something seemed to amuse her. “Do you think I care?” she said cheerfully, still counting her cash. “I'm out of here!” 

****

Eggsy walked through Maastricht for a very long time. He wasn't afraid that someone would arrest him. De Rooij would know better than to give him away, the prostitute was probably already deciding where she would build her mansion, and the cabbie had gotten enough cash to seem complicit to it if he ever turned out to be involved. 

Yes, all of them would keep silent about this. 

He felt sad though. In a way, he had always known it would end like this, with Pelageya dead. She was not the type of person to want to be taken in alive. But he wanted to give her the chance. It was that -the giving someone a choice- that set people like him apart from people like her. She had decided to break their promise to each other and kill him, and that was what had gotten her killed.

Eggsy sat down on a bench in a park. He wasn't sure where he was anymore. Suddenly, he started crying. It was over. All of it. It seemed crazy that just over a year ago he had been heartbroken over not becoming a Kingsman because he knew he'd never find her if he didn't have access to the information Kingsman had. It was weird that months of planning ended with one push of a button. 

He had seen on his mobile that Pelageya had destroyed one of the wires. He smiled through his tears. Hidden fail-saves indeed. When Merlin took away the bomb in Harry's house, he hadn't taken the drawings. Percival's drawings were very detailed, and the descriptions that were added in his neat handwriting were simple enough that Eggsy was confident he could replicate what Percival had designed years ago. Apparently, he was right. 

“Percival,” he whispered into the night, “we did it. Together.” 

He breathed in the cool night air, and finally called home. 

Harry picked up after one ring. “EGGSY!” he said.

Hearing the worry in his voice was enough to make Eggsy cry again. “Hi Harry” he said, sniffling softly.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked. He sounded incredibly worried. Eggsy could picture him sitting in the living room, with the dogs all looking at him, picking up on the worry in his voice, and the way his body tensed up with fear. 

“I am,” Eggsy said. “I'm okay. I...I'm coming home.” He inhaled slowly and shakily. “I'm coming home,” he repeated. 

****

Harry was flipping through the morning paper, anxiously waiting for Eggsy to arrive, when the dogs started going mad. “Eggsy!” Harry said, and followed the dogs to the window. He could just see a cab drive off, then he heard a key turn in the lock. 

The dogs all ran to the front door, and he could hear Eggsy laugh and say “Shhhh! I'm here! Go away, I want to see Harry!” A moment later, Eggsy appeared in the doorway, gently pushing the dogs off him, and ran to Harry. 

Eggsy flung himself onto Harry's lap, threw his arms around him, and kissed him. “I love you I love you I love you!” Eggsy said between kisses. 

Harry laughed. He was still worried, but Eggsy wasn't hurt, thank God. 

Eggsy pulled back a bit, and looked Harry in the eyes. He looked exhausted, but happy. “Harry… have you read the papers today?” 

“I've tried,” Harry said. He had been too worried about Eggsy to concentrate on the news. 

Eggsy chuckled. “Please try again.” 

The front page of the papers was dedicated to a mysterious blast in Maastricht. No one knew what had happened, only that a woman had died. She was not identified yet, but many weapons had been found in the rubble. Harry looked up at Eggsy. “What is so impor- Oh my God! Were you there?” 

Eggsy nodded.

“Why?” Had it been a mission after all? A mission so secret Merlin would lie to him about it? Harry looked at the papers again. A woman had died… “Who is this woman?” he asked. Part of him already knew.

Eggsy's voice was flat when he said “This woman was Pelageya Gorbunova.” 

Harry didn't know what to say for a few moments. The woman of his nightmares. She was dead. He looked at the picture in the papers again, at the rubble that had one been a building. He inhaled sharply when he realised how this had happened. “Percy…?” 

Eggsy nodded. Then they both started crying. It was over.

****

Six months later:

“What are you smiling about?” Eggsy asked.

Roxy punched him in the arm. “Because you look so handsome in your suit.” 

“Ow!” he rubbed his arm. “You see me wear a suit every damn day!” 

“Not a wedding suit!” Roxy said, and tried to punch him again, but he dodged it. Punching him was Roxy's way to show her excitement. His arms had been bruised from shoulder to elbow ever since Harry finally said 'yes'. 

“Go abuse Harry!” he said, straightening his tie for the twentieth time that day. 

“Merlin is already doing that,” Roxy said, grinning at him. “I have read his speech. It is amazing.” 

“No doubt,” Eggsy mumbled. He grinned at her. “Fuck, I'm nervous!” 

“No need to worry,” she said cheerfully. “He said 'yes', now he only has to say 'I do'. Half of it is in the pocket, mate!” 

“I know, but...”

“I have told him that if he even so much as hesitates, I will shoot him.” Roxy said. “And he agreed that he would totally deserve that, so yeah.” She shrugged.

Eggsy wasn't entirely sure it was a joke. 

****

They had exchanged vows the day before, feeling it was best to speak freely about everything that had happened, without worrying about those who weren't Kingsman. Roxy's girlfriend Priya thought they really worked in a tailorshop, and while Michelle knew the truth, she didn't know everything. 

Eggsy was pushing back happy tears all through the ceremony. Michelle walked Eggsy down the aisle, smiling and crying the whole way, until she could sit down next to Tristan in the front row. It was a recent development, one that Eggsy could not be more happy about. Tristan was smitten with Michelle, and he loved Daisy. 

Harry was waiting for him at the altar, looking happier than ever before. Daisy had made flowers out of white paper to decorate Harry's wheelchair. He was wearing one of those flowers in his buttonhole, as was Eggsy. Eggsy took Harry's hand, aware that it was the last time he would do it without feeling a ring. The thought made him smile even wider.

Merlin officiated the wedding, of course he did. His speech made Tristan and Roxy roar with laughter in some parts, made Michelle cry in others, but mostly made Eggsy and Harry cover their faces in embarrassment.

When it came to the “I do's” Harry didn't hesitate. Eggsy though he could see Tristan move his hand away from his inner pocket the moment Eggsy himself said “I do,” but he wasn't sure. They exchanged rings, and Eggsy was just barely keeping it together. The last two years kept going through his head, from the moment he met Harry and decided he hated him, to the days in which hatred turned into friendship, and the moment friendship turned into love. He thought of all the times they were laughing about the dogs, all the times Michelle and Daisy came to visit, about the moment Tristan saw Michelle for the first time and stammered “My name is Dav- shit, sorry! Tris- fuck, nevermind, it's David.” And the time Daisy had whispered at him “Mummy is in love with David!” and he knew it to be true. 

He thought of the scar on Harry's spine, and the scar on his own kneecap, of Roxy measuring him for his suit even though it wasn't necessary, of the two times Harry said 'no' when he asked him to marry him, and the time he said 'yes'. Harry had shown up in Berlin after Eggsy had finished a mission, saying “I fancied a holiday.” Walking past the remnants of the Berlin wall, Eggsy had gathered the courage to do it again, one last time. He took out the ring he carried with him everywhere, went down one one knee, and asked him again. And Harry said 'yes', as if the word 'no' didn't even exist, and maybe that was true in that moment.

“You may kiss each other,” Merlin said, and Eggsy almost fell over in his enthusiasm when he leaned down and put his hands on the armrests to kiss Harry. While kissing Harry, he could hear Daisy gasp, and say “They are kissing,” on a very serious tone, almost like narrating a documentary. Harry heard it as well, judging by the way his lips curled up during the kiss. 

Eggsy looked at Daisy, who waved when she saw him look, and Tristan and Michelle who both looked proud and happy. His own little family, by blood and by choice.

Then he looked at Harry again, and kissed him once more. Eggsy had many reasons to be happy, and most of these reasons were called Harry Unwin-Hart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it!
> 
> PS. I have tumblr: proudofmygeneration (dot) tumblr (dot) com


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